Where they counted kindly giving half the joy and pride of living
And the seasons came full-handed, and the angels blessed the store;
While the happy Laughing Mary flitted round us like a fairy.
And the big, shy boys stopped business, and looked up to watch her pass—
Ah, but when she caught them staring at the ribbons she was wearing!
Well, they spilled their tea at Casey’s—on the good clean cloth at Casey’s—
Spending Sunday down at Casey’s after Mass.
Then the reckless feats of daring, and the bushman’s fierce delight
When the brumby squealed and rooted, and the saddle-girths were tight!
They could ride ’em down at Casey’s—stick like plasters down at Casey’s—