In the gusty old weather,When our hopes and our troubles were new,In the years spent in wearing out leather,I found you unselfish and true --I have gathered these verses together For the sake of our friendship and you.
You may think for awhile,and with reason,Though still with a kindly regret,That I've left it full late in the season To prove I remember you yet;But you'll never judge me by their treason Who profit by friends --and forget.
I remember,Old Man,I remember --
The tracks that we followed are clear --
The jovial last nights of December,The solemn first days of the year,Long tramps through the clearings and timber,Short partings on platform and pier.
I can still feel the spirit that bore us,And often the old stars will shine --I remember the last spree in chorus For the sake of that other Lang Syne,When the tracks lay divided before us,Your path through the future and mine.
Through the frost-wind that cut like whip-lashes,Through the ever-blind haze of the drought --And in fancy at times by the flashes Of light in the darkness of doubt --I have followed the tent poles and ashes Of camps that we moved further out.
You will find in these pages a trace of That side of our past which was bright,And recognise sometimes the face of A friend who has dropped out of sight --I send them along in the place of The letters I promised to write.
