The Riding of The Rebel He was the Red Creek overseer, a trusted man and true, Whose shoulder never left the wheel when there was work to do; Through all the day he rode the run, and when the lights grew dim The sweetest wife that ever loved would wait and watch for him. She brought him dower of golden hair and eyes of laughing blue, Stout heart and cunning bridle-hand to guide the mulga through; And when the mob was mustered from the box flats far and wide She loved to mount the wildest colts that no one else would ride. And once it chanced a wayward steed, half-mouthed and roughly broke, Denied the touch of gentle hand and gentler words she spoke, And, plunging forward like the ship that feels the autumn gales, He reared and lost his footing and fell backwards on the rails. Her husband bent above her with cold terror at his heart— The form was still he loved so well, the wan lips would not part; ...