While The Billy BoilsSearchAh me! how clearly they come back–Those golden days of long ago,When down the droughty Bogan trackTom came with stock from Ivanhoe!
The cattle passed our homestead gate,Beside our well I watched them pass!While Dad was in a fearful stateAbout his water and his grass.
Tom rode a bonny dark-bay nag;He wore a battered cabbage-tree;And as I filled our water-bagHe came and asked a drink from me.
Tom said that drink was just like wine;He said my eyes were soft and brown;He said there were no eyes like mineFrom Dandaloo to Sydney town.
I watched him with a trembling lip,Yet little thought I then that heWho asked a drink from me that tripWould next trip ask my Dad for me!
Tom's droving days long since are done;The wet tear oft has dimmed my eye;But days when I was wooed and wonCome back to me ... when stock go by!