“The doctor jibbed, to put it blunt—but Father Pat went through.”
Ay, he went through in shine or shade; so, when the days were fair,
And at our simple sports we played, ’twas good to see him there;
And under troubled, angry skies, when all the world went wrong,
With aching hearts and misted eyes we watched for Currajong.
We watched, and never watched in vain, whatever might befall.
When summoned to the bed of pain, he answered to the call.
He came through rain or storm or heat; and in the darkest night
We heard his hoofs the music beat, we saw the welcome light.
And when again, with plumes ahead and horses stepping slow,