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The Murrumbidgee Barge

Edward S. Sorenson

There’s a stir along the river,
    And it’s “busy time” in Hay,
When the straining teams deliver
    Giant loads from far away;
And the bales glide down the pinches,
    And the neat grey stacks grow large,
To the rattle of the winches
    On the Murrumbidgee barge.

Ere her consort starts a-towing,
    Other clips stream into Hay,
While Balranald’s dumps are growing
    Ten Score river-miles away;
And at Tupra, heaped for freighting—
    There the Lachlan teams discharge—
More grey piles of bales are waiting
    For the Murrumbidgee barge.

As a lazy giant wallows,
    On the tow-rope stout and strong,
Dodging snags and muddy shallows,
    Dawn to dusk she ploughs along,
Round the long bends ever turning,
    Broad deep bows the tracks enlarge
That the paddle-wheels are churning
    ‘Fore the Murrumbidgee barge.

Day by day they twist and hurry,
    And the gums go gliding by,
On the long way to the Murray,
    Oft with red dust in the sky;
While the bagmen and the whalers
    Camped along the river marge
Send a greeting to the sailors
    On the Murrumbidgee barge.

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