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letra de shadow of death - mario william vitale

this was the way of it, don’t you know —
ryan was “wanted” for stealing sheep
and never a trooper, high or low
could find him — catch a weasel asleep!
till trooper scott, from the stockman’s ford —
a bushman, too, as i’ve heard them tell —
chanced to find him drunk as a lord
round at the shadow of death hotel
d’you know the place? it’s a wayside inn
a low grog-shanty — a bushman trap
hiding away in its shame and sin
under the shelter of conroy’s gap —
under the shade of that frowning range
the roughest crowd that ever drew breath —
thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange
were mustered round at the “shadow of death”

the trooper knew that his man would slide
like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
and with half a start on the mountain side
ryan would lead him a merry dance
drunk as he was when the trooper came
to him that did not matter a rap —
drunk or sober, he was the same
the boldest rider in conroy’s gap

“i want you, ryan,” the trooper said
“and listen to me, if you dare resist
so help me heaven, i’ll shoot you dead!”
he snapped the steel on his prisoner’s wrist
and ryan, hearing the handcuffs click
recovered his wits as they turned to go
for fright will sober a man as quick
as all the drugs that the doctors know

there was a girl in that shanty bar
went by the name of kate carew
quiet and shy as the bush girls are
but ready-witted and plucky, too
she loved this ryan, or so they say
and p-ssing by, while her eyes were dim
with tears, she said in a careless way
“the swagman’s round in the stable, jim.”

spoken too low for the trooper’s ear
why should she care if he heard or not?
plenty of swagmen far and near —
and yet to ryan it meant a lot
that was the name of the grandest horse
in all the district from east to west;
in every show ring, on every course
they always counted the swagman best

he was a wonder, a raking bay —
one of the grand old snowdon strain —
one of the sort that could race and stay
with his mighty limbs and his length of rein
born and bred on the mountain side
he could race through scrub like a kangaroo;
the girl herself on his back might ride
and the swagman would carry her safely through

he would travel gaily from daylight’s flush
till after the stars hung out their lamps;
there was never his like in the open bush
and never his match on the cattle-camps
for faster horses might well be found
on racing tracks, or a plain’s extent
but few, if any, on broken ground
could see the way that the swagman went

when this girl’s father, old jim carew
was droving out on the castlereagh
with conroy’s cattle, a wire came through
to say that his wife couldn’t live the day
and he was a hundred miles from home
as flies the crow, with never a track
through plains as pathless as ocean’s foam;
he mounted straight on the swagman’s back

he left the camp by the sundown light
and the settlers out on the marthaguy
awoke and heard, in the dead of night
a single horseman hurrying by
he crossed the bogan at dandaloo
and many a mile of the silent plain
that lonely rider behind him threw
before they settled to sleep again

he rode all noght, and he steered his course
by the shining stars with a bushman’s sk!ll
and every time that he pressed his horse
the swagman answered him gamely still
he neared his home as the east was bright
the doctor met him outside the town
“carew! how far did you come last night?”
“a hundred miles since the sun went down.”

and his wife got round, and an oath he p-ssed
so long as he or one of his breed
could raise a coin, though it took their last
the swagman never should want a feed
and kate carew, when her father died
she kept the horse and she kept him well;
the pride of the district far and wide
he lived in style at the bush hotel

such wasthe swagman; and ryan knew
nothing about could pace the crack;
little he’d care for the man in blue
if once he got on the swagman’s back
but how to do it? a word let fall
gave him the hint as the girl p-ssed by;
nothing but “swagman — stable wall;
go to the stable and mind your eye.”

he caught her meaning, and quickly turned
to the trooper: “reckon you’ll gain a stripe
by arresting me, and it’s easily earned;
let’s go to the stable and get my pipe
the swagman has it.” so off they went
and as soon as ever they turned their backs
the girl slipped down, on some errand bent
behind the stable and seized an axe

the trooper stood at the stable door
while ryan went in quite cool and slow
and then (the trick had been played before)
the girl outside gave the wall a blow
three slabs fell out of the stable wall —
’twas done ‘fore ever the trooper knew —
and ryan, as soon as he saw them fall
mounted the swagman and rushed him through

the trooper heard the hoof-beats ring
in the stable yard, and he jammed the gate
but the swagman rose with a mighty spring
at the fence, and the trooper fired too late
as they raced away, and his shots flew wide
and ryan no longer need care a rap
for never a horse that was lapped in hide
could catch the swagman in conroy’s gap

and that’s the story. you want to know
if ryan came back to his kate carew;
of course he should have, as stories go
but the worst of it is this story’s true:
and in real life it’s a certain rule
whatever poets and authors say
of high-toned robbers and all their school
these horsethief fellows aren’t built that way

come back! don’t hope it — the slinking hound
he sloped across to the queensland side
and sold the swagman for fifty pound
and stole the money, and more beside
and took to drink, and by some good chance
was k!lled — thrown out of a stolen trap
and that was the end of this small romance
the end of the story of conroy’s gap

- mario william vitale

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