The Passing Of Scotty

We throw us down on the dusty plain     When the gold has gone from the west,     But we rise and tramp on the track again,     For were tired, too tired to rest.     Darker and denser the shadows fall     That are cramping each aching brow,     Scotty the Wrinkler! youve solved it all,     Give us a wrinkle now.     But no one lieth so still in death     As the rover who never could rest;     And hes free of thought as hes free of breath,     And his hands are crossed on his breast.     You have earned your rest, you brave old tramp,     As I hope in the end we will.     Ah me! Twas a long, long way to camp     Since the days when they called you Phil.     What have they done with your quaint old soul     Now they have passed you through?     But we cant but think, as our swags we roll,     That its right, old man, with you;     You learned some truth in the storm and strife     Of the outcast battlers ways;     And you left some light in the vagabonds life     Ere you vanished beyond the haze.     One by one in the far ahead,     In the smothering haze of drought,     Where hearts are loyal and hopes are dead,     The forms of our mates fade out.     Tis a distant goal and a weary load,     But we follow the Wrinkler home,     As, staggering into the short, straight road,     From the blind branch tracks we come.     We leave our mark and we play our part     In the nations pregnant days,     And we find a place in the Bushmans heart     Ere we vanish beyond the haze.