The shearers found some kerosene and settled down again,
But all the squatter chaps and I, we staggered to the train.

`And, once outside the cloud of thirst, we felt as right as pie,
But while we stopped about the town we had to drink or die.
But now I hear it's safe enough, I'm going back to work
Because they say the cloud of thirst has shifted on to Bourke.

`But when you see those clouds about -- like this one over here --
All white and frothy at the top, just like a pint of beer,
It's time to go and have a drink, for if that cloud should burst
You'd find the drink would all be gone, for that's a cloud of thirst!'

. . . . .

We stood the man from Narromine a pint of half-and-half;
He drank it off without a gasp in one tremendous quaff;
`I joined some friends last night,' he said, `in what THEY called a spree;
But after Narromine 'twas just a holiday to me.'

And now beyond the Western Range, where sunset skies are red,
And clouds of dust, and clouds of thirst, go drifting overhead,
The railway-train is taking back, along the Western Line,
That narrow-minded person on his road to Narromine.




Saltbush Bill's Gamecock