And gathers up the sheep;

And, working wide and shy,
She holds them rounded up.
The cash ain't coined to buy
That little collie pup.

And so I draw a screw
For self and dog and keep
To boundary-ride for you,
O Riverina Sheep!

And when the autumn rain
Has made the herbage grow,
You travel off again,
And glad -- no doubt -- to go.

But some are left behind
Around the mountain's spread,
For those we cannot find
We put them down as dead.

But when we say adieu
And close the boarding job,
I always find a few
Fresh ear-marks in my mob.

So what with those I sell,
And what with those I keep,
You pay me pretty well,