Iím The Man.
per Kind Permission
Iím the man they talk about, "The Man From Snowy River"
The one who did those daring deeds that made old Clancy shiver.
Itís true I had a skinny horse an he wasnít all that hot,
But in times gone by one had to do with what heíd got.
I came from Snowy River down Kosciuskoís side.
As a lad I had no saddle and thatís how I learnt to ride.
I heard about the escapee, the colt from old Regret,
And always one for a bit of fun, I joined up for a bet.
I turned up at the homestead with that wild and woolly lot,
And the old man said Iíd never do - couldnít keep up at a trot.
So then my old friend Clancy stood up for me with a grin.
And the old man never argued Ďcause he knew heíd never win.
We galloped off into those hills, my horse was pulling madly,
Whenever we had company that horse would go so badly.
We found a mob of brumbies and the colt was with them too.
As the old man gave his orders off into the scrub they flew.
The stockmen rode to wheel them, Clancy raced along their wing,
And my young heart beat so rapidly as I heard the stockwhips sing.
When we reached the mountainís summit even Clancy pulled his steed,,
But the yang that I was riding had no mouth and would not heed.
They say I swung my stockwhip Ďround. They say I gave a cheer,
But I was struggling with my nag, Those cheers were yells of fear!
It was only fear that saved me, fear had glued me to my seat,
And I never ever dared deny my confidence in that feat.
When I finally reached the bottom of that terrible decent,
I saw a whisp of dust to tell which way the brumbies went.
I found them in a dead-ender in a gully walled with stone,
And thatís how I came to turn them back, how I did it on my own.
I know I havenít got the right to stake my claim to fame,
So, having set the record straight - Iíll just leave out my nameÖ.