Perhaps some English tourist out in Palestine may find
My broken-hearted waler with a wooden plough behind.
No; I think I’d better shoot him and tell a little lie:—
“He floundered in a wombat hole and then lay down to die.”
May be I’ll get court-martialled; but I’m damned if I’m inclined
To go back to Australia and leave my horse behind.
Trooper Bluegum.
EVENING AMONGST THE JUDEAN HILLS
