I had written him a letter, which I had for want of better knowledge, sent to where I met him, down the Loughlin years ago.
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, just on spec, addressed as follows, glancy of the overflow.
And an answer came directed, in a writing unexpected, and I think the same was written, with a thumbnail dipped in tar.
It was his shearing maid who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it, Glancy's gone to Queensland drooling, and we don't know where he are.
In my wild erratic fancy, visions come to me of Glancy, gone a-droving.
Down the Cooper, where the western drovers go.
As the stock are slowly stringing, Glancy rides behind them singing, for the drover's life is pleasures that the town folk never know.
And the bush has friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him, in the murmur of the breezes, and the river on its buzz.
And he sees the vision splendid of the sun.
The sunlit plains extended, and at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle, of the tramways and the buses, making hurry down the street.
And the language uninviting, of the gutter children fighting, comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me, as they shoulder one another, in their rush and nervous haste.
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, for town folk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy, that I'd like to change with Glancy.
Like to take a turn, and I'd like to change with Glancy.
I'd like to turn a-drovin', where the seasons come and go.
While he faced the round eternal, of the cash book and the journal, that I doubt he'd soothe the office, Glancy of the overflow.
In my wild, erratic fancy, visions come to me of Glancy, gone a-drovin' down the cooper, where the western drovers go.
As the stalker slowly stringing, Glancy roars.
Her eyes behind them singing, for the drover's life has pleasures, that the town folk never know.