How The Firequeen Crossed The Swamp - Norma O'Hara Murphy

Written by：Norma O'Hara Murphy

The flood was down in the Wilga swamp

Three feet over the mud

And the teamsters camped on the Wilga range

Swore at the rising flood

One by one they had tried the trip

Double and treble teams

And one after one each desert ship

Had sunk to her axle beams

The last of the teams to this struggled back

And the sun was low in the sky

And the first of the stars was peeping out

When Dareaway Dan came by

There's never a teamster draws to Bourke

But has taken the help of Dan

There's never a team on the great north road

Can lift as the big roans can

Broad hipped beauties that nothing can stop

Leaders that swing to a cough

Eight blue roans on the near side yote

And eight red roans on the off

The day want done now

There were five good miles

Does farther of you hold in mind

If you never were to stop before an old man

You'll stop by the will go floop

The dark will be down in an hour or so

There isn't the ghost of a moon

So leave your nags in the station grass

Instead of the long lagoon

Dan stood up to the leader's head

And fondled the big brown nose

There's many a mile in the roan team yet

Before they are feed for the crows

The light of the stars is light enough

They have nothing to do but plough

There's never a swamp has held them yet

And a swamp won't stop them now

They're waiting for flour at the Swagman's bend

I'll steer for the lifting light

There's nothing to fear with a team like mine

And I camp in the bend tonight

So they stood aside and they watched them pass

In the glow of the sinking sun

With straining muscles and tightened chains

Sixteen pulling like one

With jingling harness and droning wheels

And bare whose rhythmic tramp

With creaking timbers and lurching load

The Fire Queen faces the swamp

And the big roans fought for footing

And the spreaders threshed like flails

And the big wheels lifted the muddy spume

To the bend of the red float rails

And they cheered him out to the westward

With the last of the failing light

And the splashing hoofs and the driver's voice

Died softly away in the night

Nah some and speak out the shadowy form

That guided the leader's reins

And some of them speak of a shod black horse

Pulled in the off side chains

How every time that he lifted his feet

The Waggon would groan and swing

Every time that he dropped his head

You could hear the tug chains ring

And Dan to the Swagman's bend came through

Mud spattered from foot to head

And they couldn't tell which of the roans were blue

And which of the roans were red

Now this is the tale as I heard it told

And may believe it true

When the teamsters say in their off hand way

Was the devil pulled him through

There's never a teamster draws to Bourke

But has taken the help of Dan

There's never a team on the great north road

Can lift as the big roans can

Can lift as the big roans can

Can lift as the big roans can