-
- Should you go down the ranges, where the trees
grow straight & long
- You will hear the owl at midnight and the birds
their morning song,
- But there's a call that will surely hold you
and its spell is sweet and long,
- 'tis the calling of the bell-bird -
- Clonk-al-long, Clonk-al-long.
-
- You may hear it gently chiming through the
mist's grey breath at dawn
- And you'll follow on the river where a cattle
pad is worn,
- And up and over yonder mountains to the valleys
out beyond
- You may hear it gently ringing -
- Clonk-al-long Clonk-al-long.
-
- Down through the slender gum-trees you may see
clear water gleam,
- And you'll stop and gently listen for the
murmur of the stream,
- There's a sound that is ever chiming you must
be moving on,
- 'tis the calling of the bell-bird -
- Clonk-al-ong, Clonk-al-long.
-
- You may follow it for hours, your heart feel
light and strong
- Along the brooks and valleys it sweetly leads
you on
- You could follow on forever, the time would not
seem long,
- The calling of the bell-bird -
- Clonk-along, Clonk-along.
-
- And when these days are over and life's body
weak and wan
- You seem to go in spirit to the time that's
past and gone -
- The end is near approaching, your swag is up
and on
- For you hear the bell-bird calling -
- Clonk-al-long
Clonk-al-ong.
-
- Herbert R Gallop
- 1918
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-
- The camp-fire embers are burning red,
- A crimson jewel against the blue,
- And thoughts of the past are in my head,
- And thoughts of my mate, my pal -- yes, you!
-
- What mates we've been; what mates so wed
- To the camp-fire's glare and the gum-leaf bed!
- What trials we've had; what packs, by gad!
- What ridges we've climbed in days so bad!
-
- Nights there were, too, so bright, so blue;
- If angels are, they were near us two.
- What weariness! what sleep! what
wakings, too!
- Few ever lived like me and you -
- The ground for a bed -
- A roof of blue!
-
- Long past adventure brings back memories dear
- Such times long gone -- the years seem queer.
- Alone, I seem to want you here
- -- To raise an argument!
-
- Say, Comrade! Can't you once again
- Live with the sun, the wind and rain?
- Come once again! Do you not care
- To sit again in the camp-fire glare?
-
- Come friend! Come Comrade! Old pals are true,
- As the fire-light wanes I want just you -
- The dying embers are burning red,
- A crimson jewel against the blue.
-
- Herbert R Gallop
- August 1918
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