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1. There was movement at the station tor the word had passed around,
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that the colt from Old Regret had got away,
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and had joined the wild bush horses, he was worth a thousand pound,
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and all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
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All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
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mustered at the homestead overnight,
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for the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
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and the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
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2. There was Harrison who made his pile when Pardon won the cup
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the old man with his hair as white as snow,
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but few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up,
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he would go wherever horse and man could go.
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And Clancy of the overflow came down to lend a hand,
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no better horseman ever held the reins,
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for never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
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he'd learned to ride while droving on the plains.
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3. When they reached the mountain summit even Clancy took a pull,
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it well might make the boldest hold their breath,
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for the wild hop scrub grew thickly and the hidden ground was full,
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of wombat holes and any slip was death.
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But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
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and he swung his stockwhip 'round and gave a cheer,
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and he raced them down the mountain like a torrent in its bed,
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while the others stood and watched in very fear.
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4. He ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam,
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he followed like a blood-hound on their track,
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'tiIl they halted cowed and beaten and he tumed their heads for home,
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and alone and unassisted brought them back.
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But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
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he was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur,
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but his courage was undaunted and his pluck was fiery hot,
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for never yet was mountain horse a cur.
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5. And down by Kosciusko where the pine-clad ridges raise
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their torn and rugged battlements on high,
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where the air is clear as crystal and the white stars fairly blaze,
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at midnight in the cold and frosty skies.
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And where around the overflow the reed beds sweep and sway,
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to the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
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the man from Snowy River is a household word today,
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and the stockmen tell the story of his ride. (Banjo Patterson)
Written by Slim Dusty/Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson