Now, the new chum fought for his honour's sake
and the pride of the English race,
But the drover fought for his daily bread with a smile on his bearded face;
So he shifted ground and he sparred for wind and he made it a lengthy mill,
And from time to time as his scouts came in
they whispered to Saltbush Bill --
`We have spread the sheep with a two-mile spread,
and the grass it is something grand,
You must stick to him, Bill, for another round
for the pride of the Overland.'
The new chum made it a rushing fight, though never a blow got home,
Till the sun rode high in the cloudless sky
and glared on the brick-red loam,
Till the sheep drew in to the shelter-trees and settled them down to rest,
Then the drover said he would fight no more and he gave his opponent best.

So the new chum rode to the homestead straight
and he told them a story grand
Of the desperate fight that he fought that day
with the King of the Overland.
And the tale went home to the Public Schools
of the pluck of the English swell,
How the drover fought for his very life, but blood in the end must tell.
But the travelling sheep and the Wilga sheep
were boxed on the Old Man Plain.
'Twas a full week's work ere they drafted out and hunted them off again,
With a week's good grass in their wretched hides,
with a curse and a stockwhip crack,
They hunted them off on the road once more