There'S The Whitebox And Pine On The Ridges Afar, Where The Iron-Bark, Blue-Gum, And Peppermint Are; There Is Many Another, But Dearest To Me, And The King Of Them All Was The Stringy-Bark Tree. Then Of Stringy-Bark Slabs Were The Walls Of The Hut, And From Stringy-Bark Saplings The Rafters Were Cut; And The Roof That Long Sheltered My Brothers And Me Was Of Broad Sheets Of Bark From The Stringy-Bark Tree. And When Sawn-Timber Homes Were Built Out In The West, Then For Walls And For Ceilings Its Wood Was The Best; And For Shingles And Palings To Last While Men Be, There Was Nothing On Earth Like The Stringy-Bark Tree. Far Up The Long Gullies The Timber-Trucks Went, Over Tracks That Seemed Hopeless, By Bark Hut And Tent; And The Gaunt Timber-Finder, Who Rode At His Ease, Led Them On To A Gully Of Stringy-Bark Trees. Now Still From The Ridges, By Ways That Are Dark, Come The Shingles And Palings They Call Stringy-Bark; Though You Ride Through Long Gullies A Twelve Months You'll See But The Old Whitened Stumps Of The Stringy-Bark Tree.