So the world of odds and evens ceased to trouble Harry Stephens,
and the niggard road no longer echoes to his lonely tread.
For another bushman found him with his -bluey- wrapped around him, sleeping like a bushman, only sleeping with the mighty dead.
And the shadows were upon him, and they found a ticket on him - just a relic of a battle that was lately lost and won.
And it told the stray Camboonian he-d been loyal to his union (right or wrong) - he had been loyal to the strike of -91-.