Oh those rides across the river
where the shallow stream runs wide
And a sunset’s beams were glossing
strips of sand on either side.
They would cross the sparkling river
on the brown horse and the bay,
Watch the willows sway and shiver
and the trembling shadows play.
'Tis a memory to be hoarded
of a foolish tale and fond,
Till another stream be forded
and they reach the great beyond.
Harry ‘Breaker’ Morant