While The Billy BoilsSearchOut West, where the stars are brightest,Where the scorching north wind blows,And the bones of the dead gleam whitest,And the sun on a desert glows—Yet within the selfish kingdomWhere man starves man for gain,Where white men tramp for existence—Wide lies the Great Grey Plain.
No break in its awful horizon,No blur in the dazzling haze,Save where by the bordering timberThe fierce, white heat-waves blaze,And out where the tank-heap risesOr looms when the sunlights wane,Till it seems like a distant mountainLow down on the Great Grey Plain.
No sign of a stream or fountain,No spring on its dry, hot breast,No shade from the blazing noontideWhere a weary man might rest.Whole years go by when the glowingSky never clouds for rain—Only the shrubs of the desertGrow on the Great Grey Plain.
From the camp, while the rich man's dreaming,Come the 'traveller' and his mate,In the ghastly dawnlight seemingLike a swagman's ghost out late;And the horseman blurs in the distance,While still the stars remain,A low, faint dust-cloud hauntingHis track on the Great Grey Plain.
And all day long from before themThe mirage smokes away—That daylight ghost of an oceanCreeps close behind all dayWith an evil, snake-like motion,As the waves of a madman's brain:'Tis a phantom NOT like waterOut there on the Great Grey Plain.
There's a run on the Western limitWhere a man lives like a beast,And a shanty in the mulgaThat stretches to the East;And the hopeless men who carryTheir swags and tramp in pain—The footmen must not tarryOut there on the Great Grey Plain.
Out West, where the stars are brightest,Where the scorching north wind blows,And the bones of the dead seem whitest,And the sun on a desert glows—Out back in the hungry distanceThat brave hearts dare in vain—Where beggars tramp for existence—There lies the Great Grey Plain.
'Tis a desert not more barrenThan the Great Grey Plain of years,Where a fierce fire burns the hearts of men—Dries up the fount of tears:Where the victims of a greed insaneAre crushed in a hell-born strife—Where the souls of a race are murderedOn the Great Grey Plain of Life!