So the world of odds and evens ceased to trouble Harry Stephens, and the niggard road no longer echoes to his lonely tread. <br />For another bushman found him with his ‘bluey’ wrapped around him, sleeping like a bushman, only sleeping with the mighty dead. <br />And the shadows were upon him, and they found a ticket on him – just a relic of a battle that was lately lost and won. <br />And it told the stray Camboonian he’d been loyal to his union (right or wrong) – he had been loyal to the strike of ‘91’.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/harry-stephens-2/
