他的旧泥烟斗塞在嘴里，他的帽子从额头上推了下来，他的衣服最适合南方——我想我现在看见他了;当城市街道寂静，睡意袭来，我常梦见我和比尔在敲鼓。我记得我第一次来到这片土地的时候;当比尔把我拉在手里的时候，我又笨又病又瘸。老比尔是那种穷人口中的朋友，他对所有人都很好，对我也很好。我们在寂寞的树下扎营，坐在火堆旁，抚摸着疲惫的膝盖，抽着烟。或者当我们走得又湿又远，天空乌云密布时，我们就在一个破旧的小酒馆里扎营，坐在那里说着谎话。尽管岁月在他的额头上刻下了印记，磨去了他的卷发，他始终是——现在也许是——姑娘们的宠儿;我听到过灌木丛里的女人尖叫和怒吼——我看到过他们因为柯尼·比尔而笑得根本无法干活。他是你见过的最快活的老狗，经常在丛林里打闹，他们会让老比尔·麦克，他会让他们整夜跳舞唱歌，他会让音乐嗡嗡作响，但他会在早上轻敲他的鼓就走了。 Though joys of which the poet rhymes Was not for Bill an' me, I think we had some good old times Out on the wallaby. I took a wife and left off rum, An' camped beneath a roof; But Bill preferred to hump his drum A-paddin' of the hoof. The lazy, idle loafers what In toney houses camp Would call old Bill a drunken sot, A loafer, or a tramp; But if the dead should ever dance -- As poets say they will -- I think I'd rather take my chance Along of Corny Bill. His long life's-day is nearly o'er, Its shades begin to fall; He soon must mount his bluey for The last long tramp of all; I trust that when, in bush an' town, He's lived and learnt his fill, They'll let the golden slip-rails down For poor old Corny Bill.