Bannerman of Dandenong

I rode through the Bush in the burning noon, Over the hills to my bride, — The track was rough and the way was long, And Bannerman of the Dandenong, He rode along by my side.

A day's march off my Beautiful dwelt, By the Murray streams in the West; — Lightly lilting a gay love-song Rode Bannerman of the Dandenong, With a blood-red rose on his breast.

"Red, red rose of the Western streams" Was the song he sang that day — Truest comrade in hour of need, — Bay Mathinna his peerless steed — I had my own good grey.

There fell a spark on the upland grass — The dry Bush leapt into flame; — And I felt my heart go cold as death, And Bannerman smiled and caught his breath, — But I heard him name Her name.

Down the hill-side the fire-floods rushed, On the roaring eastern wind; — Neck and neck was the reckless race, — Ever the bay mare kept her pace, But the grey horse dropped behind.

He turned in the saddle — "Let's change, I say!" And his bridle rein he drew. He sprang to the ground, — "Look sharp!" he said With a backward toss of his curly head — "I ride lighter than you!"

Down and up — it was quickly done — No words to waste that day! — Swift as a swallow she sped along, The good bay mare from Dandenong, — And Bannerman rode the grey.

The hot air scorched like a furnace blast From the very mouth of Hell: — The blue gums caught and blazed on high Like flaming pillars into the sky;. . .  The grey horse staggered and fell.

"Ride, ride, lad, — ride for her sake!" he cried; — Into the gulf of flame Were swept, in less than a breathing space The laughing eyes, and the comely face, And the lips that named HER name.

She bore me bravely, the good bay mare; — Stunned, and dizzy and blind, I heard the sound of a mingling roar — 'Twas the Lachlan River that rushed before, And the flames that rolled behind.

Safe — safe, at Nammoora gate, I fell, and lay like a stone. O love! thine arms were about me then, Thy warm tears called me to life again, — But — O God! that I came alone! —

We dwell in peace, my beautiful one And I, by the streams in the West, — But oft through the mist of my dreams along Rides Bannerman of the Dandenong, With the blood-red rose on his breast.