Rio Grande's Last Race, and Other Verses

The Road to Gundagai

  The mountain road goes up and down,
  From Gundagai to Tumut Town.

  And branching off there runs a track,
  Across the foothills grim and black,

  Across the plains and ranges grey
  To Sydney city far away.

       .    .    .    .    .

  It came by chance one day that I
  From Tumut rode to Gundagai.

  And reached about the evening tide
  The crossing where the roads divide;

  And, waiting at the crossing place,
  I saw a maiden fair of face,

  With eyes of deepest violet blue,
  And cheeks to match the rose in hue —

  The fairest maids Australia knows
  Are bred among the mountain snows.

  Then, fearing I might go astray,
  I asked if she could show the way.

  Her voice might well a man bewitch —
  Its tones so supple, deep, and rich.

  'The tracks are clear,' she made reply,
  'And this goes down to Sydney town,
  And that one goes to Gundagai.'

  Then slowly, looking coyly back,
  She went along the Sydney track.

  And I for one was well content
  To go the road the lady went;

  But round the turn a swain she met —
  The kiss she gave him haunts me yet!

       .    .    .    .    .

  I turned and travelled with a sigh
  The lonely road to Gundagai.