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C J Dennis - `Musterin`
Work rating: Low

Oh, I`ve ridden `em rough an` I`ve ridden `em kind,
   Brumbies and prads well-bred.
Of every colour and every kind -
   (The old stock-rider said).
I`ve broken the wild Blanchwater colts
   An` Walers from down Noo South,
An` every sort that bucks or bolts,
   With every sort of mouth.

An` I thought I knew the musterin` game
   Right thro` from A to Z.
An` every sort of nag you`d name -
   (The old stock-rider said).
I`ve wheeled `em up in the Queensland scrub,
   An` tailed `em back o` Bourke,
To skite in many an old bush pub
   I was master of all bush work.

But musterin` cattle be aeroplanes?
   What profit does it bring?
An` I don`t see how a bushman gains,
   For it ain`t a natural thing.
Soaring` and roarin` an` rampin` round
   In a rackety tin machine,
When a natural horse on natural ground
   Beats all yer keraseen.

I suppose it`s progress as they say,
   But the thing`s against all laws.
So I`m saddlin` up an` I`m off away
   Where they ain`t got them gee-gaws.
For I got no time for aeroplanes;
   But a prad with a good, kind eye,
An` the press o` the knee and the feel of the reins
   Is my game till I die.
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