Up North

Oh, Bill and Joe to the north have gone, A green shirt on their back; There are not many ewes and lambs Along Kokoda track. There are not many ewes and lambs, But men in single file Like sheep along a mountain pad Walk mile on sweating mile; And each half-hour they change the lead, Though I have never read Where any fat bell-whether was Shot, in the mountains, dead. The only sheep they muster there Leap through the mind at night; 'Twould be as red as marking time To change green shirt for white. And though Bill dreams of droving now On the drought-coloured plain, There's little need to tap the glass Or pray for it to rain. They have no lack of water there But there is a stinging tail, For men lie dying in the grass Along Kokoda trail.