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The Horse in the Tree

Edward S. Sorenson

High in the fork of a gnarled old tree
    Was the skeleton of a horse
By the road that wandered to Wirrandee;
And I said to Charlie, who rode with me,
    “Left there by a flood, of course.”

But Charlie answered, “Well, I must say
    You fellows make me smile;
For every person who comes this way
Just thinks the same, an’ he’s miles astray,
    Now, I’ll give you the dinkum ile.

“I was on that moke when he stuck up there—
    ‘Twas a wonder I wasn’t killed;
But seein’ impediments everywhere
I shifted back in the atmosphere,
    An’ only got bumped an’ spilled.

“You see, I was after a brumby mob,
    Which hereabouts split an’ spread,
Goin’ lickety-split, me an’ Wirrandee Bob,
An’ didn’t see, till I reached that knob,
    The tangle o’ scrub ahead.

“The only openin’ was through that fork,
    An’, ‘fore I had time to think,
Blue Streak went up like a popped-off cork,
But the game old moke was as fat as pork,
    An’ jambed like a wedge in a chink.

“An’ there’s his bones; ‘tis a wonder how
    They’ve hung in the sun an’ shade;
But ‘the Horse in the Tree’ is a  landmark now
That drovers know, an’ they all allow
    ‘Twas a dam’ fine leap he made.”

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