Item 07: John D. Wilson diary, 19 September-28 December 1917 - Page 183

[Page 183]

And the click of the swing gates meeting.

3.
Give me the scents of the Bush again
In the good grey land down under
The scent of the red gums after rain
When the ridges roll with thunder
The reek of the dust when the scrubbers ring.
In the trampled yard wings turning
The scent of a sandal bush in Spring
And the smell of a box log burning!

4.
Give me the sun swept plains immense
Where the countless herrds are feeding.
The shimmering line of a five wire fence
To the rim of the world receeding
Give me the long unmeasured track
And the far untrodden spaces.
The peace & rest of the plains outback
And the width of the warm Bush places

Will Ogilvie.

Home Weary.

[Shorthand transcribed as follows]
Says the Sydney "Club" the [indecipherable] this, Will Ogilvie will soon be back from his native Scotland to the land of wide spaces, of fair women and grey horses. [end of shorthand]
1.
Give me the sights of the bush to see
That I only see in dreaming;
The silver moon on a gangyall tree,
The Sun on a sandhill gleaming;
The dip & lurch of a ten ton load
As it swings through a Western clearing,
The dust of a mob on the open road,
Through the scattered salt-bush steering.

2.
Give me the sounds of the Bush to hear
The bells of the horses jingling;
The Magpies carolling sweet & clear
And the laughing jackass wrangling,
The clang of a sliprail dropped in place
The drum of a bare hoof beating,
The clatter of sheep in the drafting rail