Before We Were Married

BLACKSOIL PLAINS were grey soil, grey soil in the drought. Fifteen years away, and five hundred miles out; Swag and bag and billy carried all our care Before we were married, and I wish that I were there. River banks were grassy—grassy in the bends, Running through the land where mateship never ends; We belled the lazy fishing lines and droned the time away Before we were married, and I wish it were to-day. Working down the telegraph—winters’ gales and rains Cross the tumbled scenery of Marlborough “plains”, Beach and bluff and cook’s tent—and the cook was a “cow” Before we were married, but I wish that it was now. The rolling road to Melbourne, and grey-eyed girl in fur— One arm to a stanchion—and one round her; Seat abaft the skylight when the moon had set— Before she was married, and I wish it wasn’t yet.