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