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1. There was movement at the station tor the word had passed around, 

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     that the colt from Old Regret had got away, 

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   and had joined the wild bush horses, he was worth a thousand pound, 

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    and all the cracks had gathered to the fray. 

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    All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far 

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    mustered at the homestead overnight, 

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    for the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, 

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    and the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight. 

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2. There was Harrison who made his pile when Pardon won the cup 

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    the old man with his hair as white as snow, 

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    but few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up, 

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    he would go wherever horse and man could go. 

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    And Clancy of the overflow came down to lend a hand, 

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    no better horseman ever held the reins, 

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   for never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand, 

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    he'd learned to ride while droving on the plains. 

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3. When they reached the mountain summit even Clancy took a pull, 

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    it well might make the boldest hold their breath, 

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    for the wild hop scrub grew thickly and the hidden ground was full, 

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    of wombat holes and any slip was death. 

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    But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, 

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    and he swung his stockwhip 'round and gave a cheer, 

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    and he raced them down the mountain like a torrent in its bed, 

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    while the others stood and watched in very fear. 

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4. He ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam, 

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    he followed like a blood-hound on their track, 

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  'tiIl they halted cowed and beaten and he tumed their heads for home, 

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    and alone and unassisted brought them back. 

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    But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, 

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    he was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur, 

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    but his courage was undaunted and his pluck was fiery hot, 

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    for never yet was mountain horse a cur. 

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5. And down by Kosciusko where the pine-clad ridges raise 

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    their torn and rugged battlements on high, 

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     where the air is clear as crystal and the white stars fairly blaze, 

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    at midnight in the cold and frosty skies. 

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    And where around the overflow the reed beds sweep and sway, 

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    to the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, 

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    the man from Snowy River is a household word today, 

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    and the stockmen tell the story of his ride.      (Banjo Patterson)