Somebody's horse has finished his feed, Somebody's saddle is on; But never a nigger the tracks can read, Or know where Somebody's gone.
Over the rails and up the creek, As soon as the sun goes down: How is it every night this week That Somebody's off to town?
Grass is dewy, and overhead Evening stars are bright; And startled wallabies hear the tread Of galloping hoofs at night.
Through the scrub and over the plain Somebody's galloping fast; Never a pull on the bridle rein Till the town lights show at last.
Somebody's horse has whips o' work - Whips o' work of late - Since Somebody's brown was seen in town Tied to Somebody's gate.
But the wherefore why Somebody rides, And the track that the brown horse goes, Only his rider (and one besides: Some other Somebody) knows!
First published in the Bulletin 5 April 1902.