The Man Who Steadies the Lead

THE MAN WHO STEADIES THE LEAD

Will H Ogilvie

He was born in the light of red oaths and nursed by the drought and the flood,

And swaddled in sweat lined saddle-cloths and christened in spur drawn blood;

He never was burdened with learning, and many would think him a fool,

But he’s mastered a method of `turning` that never was taught in a school.

His manners are rugged and vulgar, but he’s nuggets of gold in our need,

And a lightning flash in the mulga is the Man who Steadies the Lead!

When the stockwhips are ringing behind him and brumbies are racing abreast,

It’s fifty-to-one you will find him a furlong or two from the rest

With the coils of his whip hanging idle, his eyes on the mob at his side,

And the daintiest touch on the bridle- for this is the man that can ride!

And the stallions that break for the mallee will find he has courage and speed,

For he rides the best horse in the valley- this stockman who steadies the lead.

When they’re fetching in `stores` to the station through tangles of broken belar,

And the road is a rough calculation that’s based on the blaze of a star;

When they’re quickening through sand-ridge and hollow and rowels are spattered with red,

And sometimes you’ve only to follow the sound of the hoof-beat ahead;

Then we know that he’s holding them nor’ward- we trust in the man and his steed,

As we hear the old brown crashing forward and his rider’s `Wo-up` to the lead.

And again in a journey that’s longer, in a different phase of the game,

Dropping down the long trail to Wodonga with a thousand or so of the same;

When the blue grass is over the rollers, and each one contentedly rides,

And even the worst of the crawlers are stuffing green grass in their hides;

He is ready to spread them or ring them or steady them back on the feed,

And he knows when to stop them or string them, this stockman who rides in the lead.

But when from the bend of the river the cattle break camp in the night-

O, then is the season, if ever, we value his service aright!

For we know that if some should be tardy, and some should be left in the race,

Yet the spurs will be red on `Coolgardie` as someone swings out of his place.

The mulga-boughs-hark to them breaking in front of the maddened stampede!

A horse and rider are taking their time-honoured place in the lead.

As an honest and impartial recorder I’d fain have you all recollect

There are other brave men on the Border entitled to every respect;

There’s the man who thinks bucking a tame thing and rides them with lighted cigars;

And the man who will drive any blame thing that ever was hooked to the bars……….

Their pluck and their prowess are granted, but, all said and done, we’re agreed

That the king of ‘em all when he’s wanted is the Man who Steadies the Lead!