The Man from Snowy River. A. B. Paterson

And Ryan, as soon as he saw them fall,

       Mounted the Swagman and rushed him through.

       The trooper heard the hoof-beats ring

       In the stable yard, and he slammed the gate,

       But the Swagman rose with a mighty spring

       At the fence, and the trooper fired too late,

       As they raced away and his shots flew wide

       And Ryan no longer need care a rap,

       For never a horse that was lapped in hide

       Could catch the Swagman in Conroy's Gap.

       And that's the story. You want to know

       If Ryan came back to his Kate Carew;

       Of course he should have, as stories go,

       But the worst of it is, this story's true:

       And in real life it's a certain rule,

       Whatever poets and authors say

       Of high-toned robbers and all their school,

       These horsethief fellows aren't built that way.

       Come back! Don't hope it—the slinking hound,

       He sloped across to the Queensland side,

       And sold the Swagman for fifty pound,

       And stole the money, and more beside.

       And took to drink, and by some good chance

       Was killed—thrown out of a stolen trap.

       And that was the end of this small romance,

       The end of the story of Conroy's Gap.