The Old Black Billy and Me

The sheep are yarded, an' I sit
Beside the fire an' poke at it.
Far from the booze, an' clash o' men,
Glad, I'm glad I'm back again
On the station, wi' me traps
An' fencin' wire, an' tanks an' taps.
Back to salt-bush plains, an' flocks,
An' old bark hut be th' apple-box.
I turn the slip jack, make the tea,
All 's as still as still can be —
An' the old black billy winks at me.