A strapping young stockman lay dying,
His saddle supporting his head;
His two mates around him were crying,
As he rose on his elbows and said:
“Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Where the dingoes and crows can’t molest me,
In the shade where the coolibahs grow.

“Oh! had I the flight of the bronzewing,
Far o’er the plains I would fly,
Straight to the home of my childhood,
And there I would lay down and die.

CHORUS— Wrap me up, etc.

“Then cut down a couple of saplings,
Place one at my head and my toes;
Carve on them cross, stockwhip and saddle,
To show there’s a stockman below.”

CHORUS—
Wrapt up with his stockwhip and blanket,
Buried deep he is sleeping below,
Where the dingoes and crows can’t molest him,
In the shade where the coolibahs grow.

“There’s tea in the battered old billy;
Place the pannikins out in a row,
And we’ll drink to the next merry meeting
In the place where all good fellows go.

CHORUS— Wrap me up, etc.

“Hark! there’s the wail of a dingo,
Watchful and weird — I must go,
For it tolls the death-knell of the stockman
From the gloom of the scrub down below.

CHORUS— Wrap me up, etc.

“And oft in the shades of the twilight,
When the soft winds are whispering low,
And the darkening shadows are falling,
Sometimes think of the stockman below.”

CHORUS—
Wrapt up with his stockwhip and blanket,
Buried deep he is sleeping below,
Where the dingoes and crows can’t molest him,
In the shade where the coolibahs grow.



See:
The Dying Stockman“, Cobram Courier (Cobram, Vic.), 6 September 1894, p. 6.

Notes by Andrew Guild:
As a child, this was one of my favourite Australian bush songs, although the one I remember was slightly different to this version. A search of the internet shows a myriad of slightly different versions of this song.

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