There was
movement at the station
For the word had
passed around
That the colt from
Old Regret had got away
And had joined
the wild bush horses
He was worth a
thousand pounds
So all the cracks had
gathered to the fray
All the tried and
noted riders
From the stations
near and far
Had mustered at the
homestead overnight
For the bushmen
love hard riding
Where the wild bush
horses are
And the stock-horse
snuffs the battle
with delight
There was Harrison
Who made his pile
when Pardon won the cup
And the old man with
his hair as white as snow
But few could ride
beside him
When his blood was
fairly up
He would go wherever
horse or man could go
And Clancy of the Overflow
Came down to lend a hand
No better horseman
ever held the reins
For never horse
could throw him
While the saddle-girths
would stand
And he Ieamt to ride
While droving on the plains
And one was there
a stripling
On a small and
weedy beast
He was something like a
Racehorse undersized
With a touch of Tim or pony
Three parts thoroughbred
at least
And such as are by
mountain horsemen prized
He was hard
and tough and wiry
just the sort that
won't say die
There was courage in his
Quick impatient tread
And he bore the badge
of gameness
In his bright and fiery eye
And the proud and lofty
carnage of his head
But still so slight
and weedy
One would doubt
his power to stay
And the old man said
That horse will never do
For a long and tiring
gallop lad
You'd better stop away
Those hills are
far too rough
For such as you
So he waited
sad and wistful
Only Clancy
stood his friend
Oh I think we ought to
Let him come, he said
And I warrant
he'll be with us
When he's wanted
at the end
For both his horse
And he are mountain bred
Oh he hails from
Snowy River
Up by Kosciusko's side
Where the hills are twice
As steep and
twice as rough
Where a horse's hoofs
strike firelight
From the flint stones
every stride
And the man that holds his
Own is good enough
And the Snowy River riders
On the mountains
make their home
Where the river runs
Those giant hills between
I have seen full
many horsemen
Since I first
commenced to roam
But nowhere yet
such horsemen
Have I seen
So he went
They found the horses
By the big mimosa clump
They raced away towards
The mountain's brow
And the old man
gave his orders
"Boys, go at them
from the jump
No use to try for fancy
riding now
And, Clancy
you must wheel them
Try and wheel them
to the right
And ride boldly, lad
And never fear the spills
For never yet was rider
That could keep that
mob in sight
If once they gain
the shelter
Of those hills"
So Clancy rode to
wheel them
He was racing on the wing
Where the best and
boldest riders
Take their place
And he raced his
stockhorse past them
And he made the
ranges ring
With the stockwhip
As he met them
face to face
Then they halted
for a moment
While he swung the
dreaded 'ash
But they saw their well
beloved mountain
Full in view
And they charged
beneath the stockwhip
With a sharp and
sudden dash
And off into the mountain
scrub they flew
Then fast the
horsemen followed
Where the gorges
deep and black
Resounded to the
thunder of their tread
And the stockwhips
woke the echoes
And they fiercely
answered back
From cliffs and crags
that beetled overhead
And upward, ever upward
The wild horses
held their way
Where kurrajong and
mountain ash grew wide
And the old man
muttered fiercely
"We may bid the mob
good day
No man can
hold them down
The other side"
When they reached
the mountain's summit
Even Clancy took a pull
It well might
make the boldest
Hold their breath
The wild hop scrub
grew thickly
And the hidden
ground was full
Of wombat holes
and any slip was death
But the man from
Snowy River
Let the pony have his head
And he swung
his stockwhip
Round and gave a cheer
And he raced him
down the mountain
Like a torrent down it's bed
While the others stood
and watched in very fear
He sent the
flint stones flying
But the pony kept his feet
Oh he cleared the
fallen timber in his stride
And the man from
Snowy River
Never shifted in his seat
It was grand to see
that mountain
Horseman ride
Through the stringybarks
and saplings
On the rough and
broken ground
Down the hillside at a
racing pace he went
And he never
drew the bridle
Till he landed
safe and sound
At the bottom
of that terrible descent
He was right
among the horses
As they climbed the
further hill
And the watchers
on the mountain
Standing mute
Saw him ply the
stockwhip fiercely
He was right
among them still
As he raced across
the clearing in pursuit
Then they lost him
for a moment
Where two mountain
gullies met
In the ranges, oh but a final
Glimpse reveals
On a dim and
distant hillside
The wild horses racing yet
With the man from
Snowy River
At their heels
And he ran them
single-handed
Till their sides were
white with foam
He followed like a
bloodhound on their track
Till they halted
cowed and beaten
Then he turned their
heads for home
And alone and unassisted
Brought them back
But his hardy
mountain pony
He could scarcely
raise a trot
He was blood from
hip to shoulder
From the spur
But his pluck
was still undaunted
And his courage fiery hot
For never yet was
mountain horse a cur
And down by Kosciusko
Where the pine-clad
ridges raise
Their tom and rugged
battlements on high
Where the air is clear
as crystal
And the white stars
fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold
and frosty sky
And where
around the overflow
The reed beds
sweep and sway
To the breezes
And the rolling plains
are wide
The man from
Snowy River
Is a household word today
And the stockmen
tell the story of his ride
And the stockmen
tell the story of his ride
And the stockmen
tell the story of his ride
And the stockmen
tell the story of his ride