When old Lance Skuthorp had his show out Clermont way,
And he and Dick were in their prime and so was Dargan's Grey,
And bushmen bold had heard Lance boast and fling a challenge round
To any man to ride the grey within the show tent ground.
And Barron, on the Broadsound mail, who feared not even hell,
Had heard about the vicious grey and heard the stockman tell,
About the roll of notes Lance offered to put down,
Upon the grey on any night to any man in town,
And Clermont town was all agog when Barron swung his team,
With skillful hands and cunning lash a-gallop through the gleam.
To hear Lance Skuthorp make his boast with backing for the grey,
And tell the crowd he'd ride the horse and put his gear away.
And Jack was vain and loved a fight and loved to go the pace,
And few would dare to fling a taunt or insult in his face.
And bushmen flocked to Cossman's yards to see the Broadsound crack,
As flash as ever man could be astride of Dargan's back.
But Skuthorp, he was confident and agreed to let him use,
His kneepad saddle on the job for he thought he couldn't lose.
And the blindfold on his head and struggling like a lion,
Barron grabbed his nearside ear with a grip of iron, And once aboard the whitling grey and all pretence had fled,
Barron vowed to stay aboard nor give the grey his head.
But Skuthorp cursed and fumed and swore and made a hostile show.
Both Barron's arms were bands of steel and never let him go.
And that is thirty years ago, Ah yes but bushmen still relate
How Barron rode that fearful grey but rode him with his weight.
But Jack is dead long since poor chap, but it is often said,
He never would have sat the grey if he'd given him his head.