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Old Wallaroo.

The evening of my life has come;
The few friends I have known
Are scattered far and wide, and I,
An old man, am alone.
Yet still through all the changing years
One steadfast friend and true
Has ever shared my roving life—
My horse, old Wallaroo.

When journeying o'er the desert wastes,
The Never-Never lands,
With nought in sight but earth and sky,
Across the burning sands,
The last drop in my water bag
We've shared, for well I know
Together we should live or die,
My faithful Wallaroo.

Full many joys we two have known
That ne'er will come again;
We've chased wild cattle in the scrub,
And brumbies on the plain;
We've won the stockman's race, we've worn
With pride the ribbon blue,
For rides and jumps at country shows,
My stanch old Wallaroo.

We've gone a-droving on the roads,
And camped on flat and hill,
In feast or famine, shine or rain,
We've stuck together still.
'Mid flood and fire and hostile blacks
You've safely brought me through,
And many a time have saved my life,
My brave old Wallaroo.

Now we are old and like to spend
Our life in easy ways,
He dozes in the sun, I smoke
And dream of bygone days.
But when our last great journey comes,
Ah! may it be that you
And I together cross the bourne,
My dear old Wallaroo.

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