I rode through the Bush in the burning noon, Over the hills to my bride, -- The track was rough and the way was long, And Bannerman of the Dandenong, He rode along by my side. A day's march off my Beautiful dwelt, By the Murray streams in the West; -- Lightly lilting a gay love-song Rode Bannerman of the Dandenong, With a blood-red rose on his breast. "Red, red rose of the Western streams" Was the song he sang that day -- Truest comrade in hour of need, -- Bay Mathinna his peerless steed -- I had my own good grey. There fell a spark on the upland grass -- The dry Bush leapt into flame; -- And I felt my heart go cold as death, And Bannerman smiled and caught his breath, -- But I heard him name Her name. Down the hill-side the fire-floods rushed, On the roaring eastern wind; -- Neck and neck was the reckless race, -- Ever the bay mare kept her pace, But the grey horse dropped behind. He turned in the saddle -- "Let's change, I say!" And his bridle rein he drew. He sprang to the ground, -- "Look sharp!" he said With a backward toss of his curly head -- "I ride lighter than you!" Down and up -- it was quickly done -- No words to waste that day! -- Swift as a swallow she sped along, The good bay mare from Dandenong, -- And Bannerman rode the grey. The hot air scorched like a furnace blast From the very mouth of Hell: -- The blue gums caught and blazed on high Like flaming pillars into the sky; . . . The grey horse staggered and fell. "Ride, ride, lad, -- ride for her sake!" he cried; -- Into the gulf of flame Were swept, in less than a breathing space The laughing eyes, and the comely face, And the lips that named HER name. She bore me bravely, the good bay mare; -- Stunned, and dizzy and blind, I heard the sound of a mingling roar -- 'Twas the Lachlan River that rushed before, And the flames that rolled behind. Safe -- safe, at Nammoora gate, I fell, and lay like a stone. O love! thine arms were about me then, Thy warm tears called me to life again, -- But -- O God! that I came alone! -- We dwell in peace, my beautiful one And I, by the streams in the West, -- But oft through the mist of my dreams along Rides Bannerman of the Dandenong, With the blood-red rose on his breast.