Oh, Bill and Joe to the north have gone,
A green shirt on their back;
There are not many ewes and lambs
Along Kokoda track.
There are not many ewes and lambs,
But men in single file
Like sheep along a mountain pad
Walk mile on sweating mile;
And each half-hour they change the lead,
Though I have never read
Where any fat bell-whether was
Shot, in the mountains, dead.
The only sheep they muster there
Leap through the mind at night;
'Twould be as red as marking time
To change green shirt for white.
And though Bill dreams of droving now
On the drought-coloured plain,
There's little need to tap the glass
Or pray for it to rain.
They have no lack of water there
But there is a stinging tail,
For men lie dying in the grass
Along Kokoda trail.
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Comments about this poem (Up North by David Campbell )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(7 April 1889 – 10 January 1957)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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