Ploughing three abreast,
Not a minute's rest;
Turing out the black soil, and the couch grass turning in.
Pale against the sky-line, blue gums tall and thin.
Rustle greeting to each other
While the daisy heads I smother
Underneath the warm earth buried, poor crushed blossoms one by one,
One side of the furrow shadow, one side of the furrow sun.
Ploughing three abreast,
Straining flank and chest.
Ah! They are a bonny trio, chestnut, bay and darkest brown,
And they make their furrows straightly, like a lady's pleated gown.
All the air is crisp with spring
Where the dancing pee-wees wing;
Loud I whistle as I follow, till the morning's work is done,
One side of the furrow shadow, one side of the furrow sun.
First published in The Bulletin, 12 April 1906
