The struggle for freedom has ended they say,
The days of fatigue and Remorse,
But our hearts one and all are in memory today,
We are losing our old friend, the Horse.
The old quadruped that has carried us thro’
The sand ridden caravan track
And shared in the charge of the gallant and true
With the boys who will never come back.
Oh those long weary days thro’ a miniature hell
Short of water and nothing to eat,
Each hour we climbed down for a few minutes’ spell
And dozed safe and sound and your feet.
So farewell to the Yarraman old warhorse, farewell,
Be you mulga bred chestnut or bay.
If there’s a hereafter for horses as well
Then may we be with you some day.