听，它的声音越来越近了，蹒跚和铜铃的叮当声;标志着坚定的采煤机的通过，向莫纳罗土壤告别。他要去哪里?顺河而下，踏着急切的脚步顺河而下;他要去哪里?顺流而下，顺流而下去找一个“小屋”。他住在老莫纳罗的什么地方?巴克利十字路口，还是金达博因?是干平原酒，还是甜波莱拉酒?也许就在两条河的汇合处附近。他要往哪儿去? Down the river. When, oh when, will he turn him back? Soft sighs follow him down the river, Moist eyes gaze at his fading track. See, behind him his pack-horse, ambling, Bears the weight of his master's kit, Oft and oft from the pathway rambling, Crops unhampered by cruel bit. Where is he making for? Equine rover, Sturdy nag from the Eucumbene, Tempted down by the thought of clover, Springing luscious in Riverine. Dreams of life and its future chances, Snatch of song to beguile the way; Through green crannies the sunlight glances, Silver-gilding the bright 'Jack Shay'. "So long, mate, I can stay no longer, So long, mate, I've no time to stop, Pens are waiting me at Mahonga, Bluegong, Grubben and Pullitop. "What! you say that the river's risen? What! that the melted snow has come? What! that it locks and bars our prison? Many's the mountain stream I've swum. I must onward and cross the river, So long, mate, for I cannot stay; I must onward and cross the river, Over the river there lies my way." One man short when the roll they're calling; One man short at old Bobby Rand's; Heads are drooping and tears are falling Up on Monaro's mountain lands. Where is he making for? Down the river, Down the river of slimy bed; Where is he making for? Down the river, Down the river that bears him, dead.