Clancy of the Overflow

I had written him a letter Which I had, for want of better, Determined I would send.

And I was playing with the idea Of sending it to the chairmen To find out where it’d end.

Just, I couldn’t help thinking of Clancy, With his long straggling hair and his big,^

But he never was clumsy, our Clancy.

Ah, he had a bit of a twang And a quaint little smile beneath, His heart all aglow with the light of the Western sky, And his easy-going gait.

Just to wonder where he is, our Clancy, Of the Overflow.

And as for the other chaps up here, They drown the luck of the heavens In drink to keep them sane Yet their hearts still are yearning In life for the land of the rain.

All they do is just wait and pray For the time when the shadows grow long, To know what it’s like to be free – Like the packet that shows up from overseas On the morning tide, with the grace and ease Of a lark in the air, to saunter around, In the laughing light of the wild, wild.

So, Clancy of the Overflow Has gone to see the rivers, to stay In the bosom of nature’s features, Where he walks and wanders free, In that wide land that was meant for we two, Where the world’s just the same as the past.

So I’ll take my hat, my whip and my pride, And wander away with the wild, wild tide…

And by and by we’ll know, my Clancy, Where the rivers all end – at the Overflow.

• Banjo Paterson