T.Y.S.O.N.

Across the Queensland border line
The mobs of cattle go;
They travel down in sun and shine
On dusty stage, and slow.
The drovers, riding slowly on
To let the cattle spread,
Will say, “Here’s one old landmark gone,
For old man Tyson’s dead.”

What tales there’ll be in every camp
By men that Tyson knew;
The swagmen, meeting on the tramp,
Will yarn the long day through,
And tell of how he passed as “Brown”,
And fooled the local men.
“But not for me – I struck the town,
And passed the message further down;
That’s T.Y.S.O.N!”

A.B. (Banjo) Paterson

From The Australasian Pastoralists’ Review, 15 December 1898