A black-sheep, from England, who worked on the run – br Riding where the stockmen ride – br He sat by the hut when the day’s work was done – br Lone huts where the black sheep bide. br “I’m tired of my life!” to his lone self said he, br “My girl and my country are both done with me!” br br “I’m tired of my life!” to the wide scrubs said he – br “My girl and my country are long done with me!” br br He took from a packet a portrait and curl – br Such things as the exiles keep – br And sadly he gazed at the face of the girl – br Lost girl of a lost black-sheep. br “I’ll go where there’s fighting and die there!” said he; br “My girl and my country are well rid of me.