-HARRY! what, that yourself, back to old Vic., man,
Down from the Never Land? Now, what-s your game?
Ugly as ever. Not dropped the old trick, man?
Say, what-ll you take with me? Give it a name.

-Here long? Well, rather, lad; five years and over,
Settled for good, and supporting a wife.
Slipped from the saddle, and living in clover,
Swore off a heap, and I-ve slung the old life.

-What-s come of Taffy, and Brum, and the rest of them?
Long since you broke with the Poverty push?-
-Bill, you-re on top, you-ve the best of the best of them.
Poor Brum-s a dummy, Taff died in the bush;

-Bob-s cook for Chows on an absentee-s station,
Sam-s tout for spielers, Pete-s lumbered for life;
I-m on a tramp through the whole of creation,
Tracking a woman, my runaway wife.

Left me six years ago-sloped! I was shearing
Up on the Thomson. She left not a word;
Last year was seen by a Barcoo man, steering
Round about here, and that-s all that I-ve heard.

Heard of her, know her, Bill?-tallish and clever,
Blue eyes, dark hair, and she-s branded here, so;
Not one to liquor, or go on the never,
But skittish and queer in her tantrums, you know.

This is her picture, Bill; just have a look at her.
Like any female you chance to have seen?
Hallo! here, hold up! Say, man, what-s the matter?
Your Wife! By the Lord, Morton, what do you mean?-