Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/111

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While the Billy Boils.
75
Lone whare, on the green hill-side, From human haunts apart,Unnoticed by the eye of Pride, A hallowed spot thou art.This roof, that ever inward falls,This shattered door, these mouldering walls, Once held a human heart.

H. L. Twisleton.

XLII.

While the Billy Boils.

The speargrass crackles under the billy and overhead is  the winter sun;There’s snow on the hills, there’s frost in the gully, that  minds me of things that I’ve seen and done,Of blokes that I knew, and mates that I’ve worked with,  and the sprees we had in the days gone by;And a mist comes up from my heart to my eyelids, I feel  fair sick and I wonder why.
There is coves and coves! Some I liked partic’lar, and  some I would sooner I never knowed;But a bloke can’t choose the chaps that he’s thrown with  in the harvest paddock or here on the road.There was chaps from the other side that I shore with  that I’d like to have taken along for mates,But we said, “So long!” and we laughed and parted for  good and all at the station gates.
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