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The Swaggie And The Goat

Edward S. Sorenson

By station, town and mining shacks,
    Two nomads day by day
Fared out along the camel tracks
    To regions far away;
One wore small corks around his hat,
    And one a shaggy coat—
And team and tavern knew by that
    The swaggie and the goat.

By many a road tramped he and she
    The runs of shepherd kings,
Nor wished for other company
    In all their wanderings;
And here and there, to save a week,
    A lumber raft or boat
Conveyed across some flooded creek
    The swaggie and the goat.

She shared his bread and waterbag
    When tracks were dry and bare,
And like a dog, she watched his swag
    When he was otherwhere.
In memory still they linger plain,
    Though yearly more remote,
That curiously mated twain,
    The swaggie and the goat.

They camped by many a tank and dam,
    They wandered to and fro;
Where’er he went, like Mary’s lamb,
    The goat was sure to go.
E’en to the shanty bar it crept
    To slake a parching throat;
And side by side at night they slept,
    The swaggie and the goat.

Thus they were found by chance at last,
    When luck had passed them by,
Together where the summer’s blast
    Had drained the channels dry;
And ‘mid the sands where death had won,
    The desert dust afloat
Rained down a covering shroud upon
    The swaggie and the goat.

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