Over The Ranges And Into The West
By Henry Lawson
Let others sing praise of their sea-girted isles,
But give me the bush with its limitless miles;
Then its over the ranges and into the West,
To the scenes of wild boyhood; we love them the best.
Well ride and well ride from the city afar,
To the plains where the cattle and sheep stations are;
Where stockmen ride hard, and the drover starts forth
On his long, lonely journey way up in the North.
When your money is low, and your luck has gone down,
Theres no place so lone as the streets of a town;
Theres nothing but worry, and dread and unrest,
So well over the ranges and into the West.
The drought in the West may spread ruin around,
But the dread drought of life in the city is found;
And Id far sooner tread on the long dusty way,
Where each one you meet says, Good day, mate, good day.