The poem
I met her on the Lachlan Side -- A darling girl I thought her, And ere I left I swore I'd win The free-selector's daughter.
I milked her father's cows a month, I brought the wood and water, I mended all the broken fence, Before I won the daughter.
I listened to her father's yarns, I did just what I `oughter', And what you'll have to do to win A free-selector's daughter.
I broke my pipe and burnt my twist, And washed my mouth with water; I had a shave before I kissed The free-selector's daughter.
Then, rising in the frosty morn, I brought the cows for Mary, And when I'd milked a bucketful I took it to the dairy.
I poured the milk into the dish While Mary held the strainer, I summoned heart to speak my wish, And, oh! her blush grew plainer.
I told her I must leave the place, I said that I would miss her; At first she turned away her face, And then she let me kiss her.
I put the bucket on the ground, And in my arms I caught her: I'd give the world to hold again That free-selector's daughter!