Blacksoil Plains Were Grey Soil, Grey Soil In The Drought. Fifteen Years Away, And Five Hundred Miles Out; Swag And Bag And Billy Carried All Our Care Before We Were Married, And I Wish That I Were There. River Banks Were Grassy, Grassy In The Bends, Running Through The Land Where Mateship Never Ends; We Belled The Lazy Fishing Lines And Droned The Time Away Before We Were Married, And I Wish It Were To-Day. Working Down The Telegraph, Winters' Gales And Rains Cross The Tumbled Scenery Of Marlborough 'Plains', Beach And Bluff And Cook'S Tent, And The Cook Was A 'Cow' Before We Were Married, But I Wish That It Was Now. The Rolling Road To Melbourne, And Grey-Eyed Girl In Fur, One Arm To A Stanchion, And One Round Her; Seat Abaft The Skylight When The Moon Had Set, Before She Was Married, And I Wish It Wasn't Yet.