THE FREEBOOTER

What needs a man in this great world?
   A free boot on the hills to roam,
A blanket in the ticket curled
   To call his home,
A billy steaming on the log,
A book, a dog.
   Who looks for finer company
   I will not have.  He is not free.
   Who is not makes no friend of me.


My leg was loose to tramp the earth
   And walk the sea a thousand miles.
I heard a woman's lilt of mirth,
   I watched her smiles.
Love claimed me then, and spread his cares
Through ten long years.
   My boots were leaden; toiling hard,
   With smoke to breathe and walls for guard,
   I dragged them in the barren yard.


I saw it was the comoon rule
   Of Love to set man where he roots.
He made of me a limping fool.
   I cast my boots
Of lead, and whistled up a hound
To foot the round,
   Great world.  Now, loveless in the rain,
   or where the sunlight swamps the plain,
   I am freebooting once again!

"D"
The Bulletin, 27 March 1919, p24