Rafferty Rides Again

There's a road outback that becomes a track
Where the hills dip down to the plain;
And on misty moonlit nights up there
The old inhabitants all declare
On his big black stallion (or was it a mare?)
Raferty rides again.

A bushranger bold in the days of old,
T-was an evil name that he bore,
Till they shot him down from behind a tree –
At least that’s the yarn they told to me
When I asked who this Rafferty bloke might be,
And what he was riding for.

And now it appears, after all the years
That low in his grave he has lain,
That o’er the hills, in the same old way,
Dashing and debonair, reckless, gay,
On his chestnut charger (or was it a bay))
Raferty rides again.

I have waited long the old hills among,
But my vigils have been in vain;
I’ve perched all night in a towering tree,
But devil a ride he’d pick for me,
Though I would have given the world to see
Rafferty ride again.

But the tale is true that I’m telling you,
Though it’s ages since he was slain;
To all the folk in the hills ’tis known
That, awesome and spectral, and all alone,
On his snow-white courser (or was it a roan)
Rafferty rides again.