'Twas all very well away back on the station,
In the long lazy days by the weedy lagoon,
When one wearied a little of self-contemplation,
And welcomed a change as a heaven-sent boon!
'Twas all very well when you brought me that wattle
All golden with sun and the scent of a dream,
Or let me admire while you cut out cattle,
And tried to get thrown--just to see if I'd scream!
'Twas all very well in the garden at even,
When the heavy night air warmed the heart like new wine,
When the wide sleeping world seemed much nearer to heaven,
To look " Yes" to your eyes when they pleaded "Be mine."
But you must remember times do not get better,
The station is mortgaged, the cattle are dead;
You have only your hands now--would you forge a fetter
When what the heart asks is not urged by the head?
Your overdraft rankles, I know; and while single
You're only yourself in the homestead to-day,
And often, you know, when two loving hearts mingle
There's little to eat, and the devil to pay!
So forget, if you can, all that passed on the station--
The kisses we've had, and the days that were dear--
It is all for the best, so keep on your one ration,
And--l'll marry for money the end of the year!
First published in The Queenslander, 11 December 1897
