He came from "further out", <br />That land of fear and drought <br />And dust and gravel. <br />He got a touch of sun, <br />And rested at the run <br />Until his cure was done, <br />And he could travel. <br />When spring had decked the plain, <br />He flitted off again <br />As flit the swallows. <br />And from that western land, <br />When many months were spanned, <br />A letter came to hand, <br />Which read as follows: <br /> <br />"Dear Sir, I take my pen <br />In hopes that all their men <br />And you are hearty. <br />You think that I've forgot <br />Your kindness, Mr Scott; <br />Oh, no, dear sir, I'm not <br />That sort of party. <br /> <br />"You sometimes bet, I know. <br />Well, now you'll have a show <br />The 'books' to frighten. <br />Up here at Wingadee <br />Young Billy Fife and me <br />We're training Strife, and he <br />Is a all right un. <br /> <br />"Just now we're running byes, <br />But, sir, first time he tries <br />I'll send you word of. <br />And running 'on the crook' <br />Their measures we have took; <br />It is the deadest hook <br />You ever heard of. <br /> <br />"So when we lets him go, <br />Why then I'll let you know, <br />And you can have a show <br />To put a mite on. <br />Now, sir, my leave I'll take, <br />Yours truly, William Blake, <br />P.S. -- Make no mistake, <br />He's a all right un. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />By next week's Riverine <br />I saw my friend had been <br />A bit too cunning. <br />I read: "The racehorse Strife <br />And jockey William Fife <br />Disqualified for life -- <br />Suspicious running." <br /> <br />But though they spoilt his game <br />I reckon all the same <br />I fairly ought to claim <br />My friend a white un. <br />For though he wasn't straight, <br />His deeds would indicate <br />His heart at any rate <br />Was "a all right un".<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-all-right-un/
