Song of the Cattle-Hunters

While the morning light beams on the fern-matted streams,     And the water-pools flash in its glow,     Down the ridges we fly, with a loud ringing cry     Down the ridges and gullies we go!     And the cattle we hunt they are racing in front,     With a roar like the thunder of waves,     As the beat and the beat of our swift horses feet     Start the echoes away from their caves!     As the beat and the beat     Of our swift horses feet     Start the echoes away from their caves!     Like a wintry shore that the waters ride oer,     All the lowlands are filling with sound;     For swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain,     Like a tempest, are tearing the ground!     And well follow them hard to the rails of the yard,     Oer the gulches and mountain-tops grey,     Where the beat and the beat of our swift horses feet     Will die with the echoes away!     Where the beat and the beat     Of our swift horses feet     Will die with the echoes away!