There were ten of us there on the moonlit quay, <br />And one on the for’ard hatch; <br />No straighter mate to his mates than he <br />Had ever said: ‘Len’s a match!’ <br />'’Twill be long, old man, ere our glasses clink, <br />’Twill be long ere we grip your hand!'— <br />And we dragged him ashore for a final drink <br />Till the whole wide world seemed grand. <br />For they marry and go as the world rolls back, <br />They marry and vanish and die; <br />But their spirit shall live on the Outside Track <br />As long as the years go by. <br /> <br />The port-lights glowed in the morning mist <br />That rolled from the waters green; <br />And over the railing we grasped his fist <br />As the dark tide came between. <br />We cheered the captain and cheered the crew, <br />And our mate, times out of mind; <br />We cheered the land he was going to <br />And the land he had left behind. <br /> <br />We roared Lang Syne as a last farewell, <br />But my heart seemed out of joint; <br />I well remember the hush that fell <br />When the steamer had passed the point <br />We drifted home through the public bars, <br />We were ten times less by one <br />Who sailed out under the morning stars, <br />And under the rising sun. <br /> <br />And one by one, and two by two, <br />They have sailed from the wharf since then; <br />I have said good-bye to the last I knew, <br />The last of the careless men. <br />And I can’t but think that the times we had <br />Were the best times after all, <br />As I turn aside with a lonely glass <br />And drink to the bar-room wall. <br /> <br />But I’ll try my luck for a cheque Out Back, <br />Then a last good-bye to the bush; <br />For my heart’s away on the Outside Track, <br />On the track of the steerage push.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-outside-track/
