The Bush Beyond The Range

From Crows Nest here by Sydney town     Where crows had nests of old     I see the Range where day goes down,     The dim blue in the gold.     And sometimes wonder, half in doubt,     Has there been so much change     As pictured in the prints about     The Bush beyond the Range.     Theres motor car and all the frills     But none of my old mates,     The Bush seems run by Bufflo Bills     And Hayseeds from the States.     I miss the homesteads and the scrub,     The stock and fences too,     The horse and swagmen and the pub.     That Minns and Mahoney drew.     I miss the drivers, diggers, sheep,     And, lots of things, Ah, well!     I wonder if the Kellys keep     The Carriers Camp Hotel,     If that still stands by hill and plain     As old man Kellys pride,     Or if he did pull round again     When Mary Kelly died?     And Andy Kelly took to drink,     And Barney took a horse     (And two years hard without a blink)     And each one took his course.     And what became of Andy Mack,     Tom Browne, and Pat OBrine?     It must be twenty seasons back     Since last I had a line.     I wonder if, but I forget     And wonder like a fool,     Is Bertha Lambert teaching yet     A wretched, half-time school?     I hope, ah! how the memories come,     To bother and defer,     I only hope my boyhoods chum,     Fred Spencer, married her.     I wonder if the farms we had     Are scrub or ploughed ground now?     A fence by Harry Dare or Dad     Would last it, anyhow.     I wonder if the cemetry,     Fenced in by Dad and Dare,     Is lonely as it used to be     When they were buried there.     I wonder, and the more it seems     So far away and strange,     For I have lost, except in dreams,     The Bush beyond the Range.     I wonder too, in fear and shame,     Do they, like me, forget,     I wonder if they mind the name     Of Henry Lawson yet.