I come ridin’ down the Barwon with my saddle and my swag Strapped across the bony framework of a long backed chestnut nag I was headin’ for a station on the stockroute west of Bourke To tangle with an outlaw horse well known in campfire talk
When I rode down to the stockyard where they said I’d find the boss Standing just inside I saw the big roan outlaw horse He was just the kind of horseflesh a ringer dreams about Game eye and good strong shoulders and front legs well spaced out
I said now boss is that the horse the ringers rave about I’ve heard of him at Camooweal and even further out Yes he’s been tried by desert men and riders from the gulf He said I’d give my station to the man that calls his bluff
And as I strapped the bridle on that proud and shapely head I pictured me as owner of his big merino spread I threw my Schneider poley on and tightened up the girth And as I stepped astride him the big horse left this earth
He left the ground in one tight ball as solid as a stone image: http://static.urx.io/units/web/urx-unit-loader.gif
And all that I could see around was one big blur of roan I hit him with my goosenecks around the shoulder points He twisted like a reptile that had a million joints
He dropped his shoulders way down low and chopped out to the right He started striking at the bit each time the spurs did bite I thought I felt him weaken so I voiced a victory yell What happened then I only know for those who saw it tell
So I rode way from the station with my saddle and my swag Strapped across the bony framework of the same old chestnut nag And just as I was leaving he whinnied loud and shrill And even after all these years I fancy I hear him still
They still tell yarns about him around the campfire blaze Of the noted riders that he’s thrown so many different ways And while I’m taking night watch on a cattle camp alone I try to figure how I lost the battle with the roan.