In billows fleecy white.
Onward, and soon the sun's fierce rays
Will dissipate the morning haze—
He soars in fiery pomp.
We skirt the shallow "clay-pan's" marge,
Force "lignum" thickets, dense and large,
And often-times we briskly charge
Some dark "Yapunya-swamp."
We gather first a quiet lot,
Then off again with hurried trot