Once a Jolly Swagman, wandering tracks ‘tween trees
Hitching rides by saddle-side or riding in a dray
Shared his stories, brought his tales and perhaps his billy too
But most import was given to the bush telegraph news.
From town to town and ‘cross the fields, his views were sought by all
Of neighbours over hilltop and cities far beyond
News third hand, or fourth perhaps, none would really mind
For news of what lay far beyond made homes seem more like one.
The bushman’s law was help your mate and share what you may have
And whilst Matilda travelled light, the Swaggie’s voice still brimmed
With goings on and who’s been where and when the train came through
And who was lost to flooding rains on MacKellar’s open plains.
Bush telegraph has grown to pass the Swaggie’s wandering gait
And Matilda, well she’s grown old, though her dress is still bright and fresh
For now the means to tell the news moves swiftly o’er the miles
And while the billy boils the tea, its shared both near and far.
Time and tech have bridged the paths the Swaggie once did course
To find some work and tell some news – it feels at times he’s lost
But telegraphs, they never die, they only take new form,
To send the news and share the songs Matilda still waltzes to.
by Watershedd
