| When the caravans of wool-teams climbed the ranges from the West,
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| On a spur among the mountains stood 'The Bullock-drivers' Rest';
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| It was built of bark and saplings, and was rather rough inside,
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| But 'twas good enough for bushmen in the careless days that died --
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| Just a quiet little shanty kept by 'Something-in-Disguise',
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| As the bushmen called the landlord of the Shanty on the Rise.
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| 'Twas the bullock-driver's haven when his team was on the road,
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| And the waggon-wheels were groaning as they ploughed beneath the load;
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| And I mind how weary teamsters struggled on while it was light,
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| Just to camp within a cooey of the Shanty for the night;
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| And I think the very bullocks raised their heads and fixed their eyes
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| On the candle in the window of the Shanty on the Rise.
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| And the bullock-bells were clanking from the marshes on the flats
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| As we hurried to the Shanty, where we hung our dripping hats;
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| And we took a drop of something that was brought at our desire,
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| As we stood with steaming moleskins in the kitchen by the fire.
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| Oh! |
| it roared upon a fireplace of the good, old-fashioned size,
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| When the rain came down the chimney of the Shanty on the Rise.
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| They got up a Christmas party in the Shanty long ago,
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| While I camped with Jimmy Nowlett on the riverbank below;
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| Poor old Jim was in his glory -- they’d elected him M.C.,
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| For there wasn’t such another raving lunatic as he.
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| 'Mr. |
| Nowlett, Mr. Swaller!' |
| shouted Something-in-Disguise,
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| As we walked into the parlour of the Shanty on the Rise.
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| Jimmy came to me and whispered, and I muttered, 'Go along!'
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| But he shouted, 'Mr. |
| Swaller will oblige us with a song!'
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| And at first I said I wouldn’t, and I shammed a little too,
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| Till the girls began to whisper, 'We're all waiting now for you'
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| So I sang a song of something 'bout the love that never dies,
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| And the shook the rafters of the Shanty on the Rise.
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| Jimmy burst his concertina, and the bullock-drivers went
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| For the corpse of Joe the Fiddler, who was sleeping in his tent;
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| Joe was tired and had lumbago, and he wouldn’t come, he said,
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| But the case was very urgent, so they pulled him out of bed;
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| And they fetched him, for the bushmen knew that Something-in-Disguise
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| Had a cure for Joe’s lumbago in the Shanty on the Rise.
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| I suppose the Shanty vanished from the ranges long ago,
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| And the girls are mostly married to the chaps I used to know;
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| My old chums are in the distance -- some have crossed the border-line,
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| But in fancy still their glasses chink against the rim of mine.
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| And, upon the very centre of the greenest spot that lies
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| In my fondest recollection, stands the Shanty on the Rise. |