The Man from Snowy River

The All Right 'Un

   He came from 'further out',
   That land of heat and drought
   And dust and gravel.
   He got a touch of sun,
   And rested at the run
   Until his cure was done,
   And he could travel.

   When spring had decked the plain,
   He flitted off again
   As flit the swallows.
   And from that western land,
   When many months were spanned,
   A letter came to hand,
   Which read as follows:

   'Dear sir, I take my pen
   In hopes that all your men
   And you are hearty.
   You think that I've forgot
   Your kindness, Mr. Scott,
   Oh, no, dear sir, I'm not
   That sort of party.

   'You sometimes bet, I know,
   Well, now you'll have a show
   The 'books' to frighten.
   Up here at Wingadee
   Young Billy Fife and me
   We're training Strife, and he
   Is a all right 'un.

   'Just now we're running byes,
   But, sir, first time he tries
   I'll send you word of.
   And running 'on the crook'
   Their measures we have took,
   It is the deadest hook
   You ever heard of.

   'So when we lets him go,
   Why, then, I'll let you know,
   And you can have a show
   To put a mite on.
   Now, sir, my leave I'll take,
   Yours truly, William Blake.
   P.S. — Make no mistake,
   HE'S A ALL RIGHT 'UN.'

       .   .   .   .   .

   By next week's RIVERINE
   I saw my friend had been
   A bit too cunning.
   I read:  'The racehorse Strife
   And jockey William Fife
   Disqualified for life —
   Suspicious running.'

   But though they spoilt his game,
   I reckon all the same
   I fairly ought to claim
   My friend a white 'un.
   For though he wasn't straight,
   His deeds would indicate
   His heart at any rate
   Was 'a all right 'un'.