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Return to Index of Poems
It’s a quaint place this, to which some of us go,
The men of the wide lands fond;
Ask where we’re heading and all we know
It’s somewhere Back o’ Beyond.
On the way we traverse the great Outback,
And the regions of Farther Out,
By the route that’s known as the Sunset Track
To drover and roustabout.
Across the hills and the wide grey plains,
By many a pool and pond,
It wanders out where it sometimes rains,
To the mystical place Beyond.
And back of that is the shining goal
Of each of the wandering band,
Who finds himself like a motherless foal
On the border of No Man’s Land.
For thereabouts is the Back o’ Beyond,
Though it’s never been marked or mapped,
Where rivers trickle by reed and frond
From ranges of wealth untapped.
The Land of Promise there some have found,
Some a region of God Forgot,
Or the Last Place Made ere the earth went round
On its never-ending trot.
The Never Never and Never-Come-Back
And others that correspond
All lie somewhere on the Sunset Track,
Out at the Back o’ Beyond.
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