The Drover’s Boy John Williamson

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They couldn't understand why the drover cried
As they buried the drover's boy
The drover had always seemed so hard
To the men in his employ

A bolting horse, the stirrup lost
And the drover's boy was dead
A shovel of dirt, a mumbled word
And it's back to the road ahead
And forget about the drover's boy

And they couldn't understand why the drover cut
A lock of the dead boy's hair
And put it in the band of his battered old hat
As they watched him standing there

And he told them, "Take the cattle on
I'll sit with the boy a while. "
A silent thought, a pipe to smoke
And it's ride another mile
And forget about the drover's boy
Forget about the drover's boy

And they couldn't make out why the drover and the boy
Was camped so faraway
For the tall white man and the slim black boy
Never had much to say