Page:The man from Snowy River and other verses.pdf/46

 And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
 * Of the tramways and the 'buses making hurry down the street,

And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
 * Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
 * As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,

With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
 * For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
 * Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,

While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal—
 * But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of 'The Overflow.'