Scots of the Riverina.

One of Henry Lawson’s many poems that have been
set to music.

Scots of the Riverina.

The boy ran away to the city
From his home at Christmas time…
They were Scots of the Riverina,
And to run from home was a crime.

The old man burned his letter,
The first and the last he burned
And he scratched his name from the bible
When the old woman’s back was turned.

A year went past, and another,
And the fruit went down the line.
They heard the boy had enlisted
But the old man made no sign.

His name must never be mentioned
On the farm by Gundagai….
They were Scots of the Riverina
With ever the kirk hard by.

The boy came home on his ‘final’
And the townships bonfire burned.
His mother’s arms were about him
But the old man’s back was turned.

The daughters begged for pardon
Till the old man raised his hand….
A Scot of the Riverina
Who was hard to understand.

The boy was killed in Flanders
Where the bravest heroes die.
There were tears at the Grahame homestead
And grief in Gundagai.

But the old man ploughed at daybreak
And the old man ploughed till the mirk
There were furrows of pain in the orchard
While his housefolk went to the kirk.

The hurricane lamp in the rafters
Dimly and dimly burned
And the old man died at the table
When the old woman’s back was turned.

Face down on his bare arms folded
He sank with his wild grey hair
Outspread o’er the open bible
And a name re-written there.

Written by Henry Lawson.