BLACKSOIL PLAINS were grey soil, grey soil in the drought. <br />Fifteen years away, and five hundred miles out; <br />Swag and bag and billy carried all our care <br />Before we were married, and I wish that I were there. <br /> <br />River banks were grassy—grassy in the bends, <br />Running through the land where mateship never ends; <br />We belled the lazy fishing lines and droned the time away <br />Before we were married, and I wish it were to-day. <br /> <br />Working down the telegraph—winters’ gales and rains <br />Cross the tumbled scenery of Marlborough “plains”, <br />Beach and bluff and cook’s tent—and the cook was a “cow” <br />Before we were married, but I wish that it was now. <br /> <br />The rolling road to Melbourne, and grey-eyed girl in fur— <br />One arm to a stanchion—and one round her; <br />Seat abaft the skylight when the moon had set— <br />Before she was married, and I wish it wasn’t yet.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/before-we-were-married/
