Harry The Breaker

Harry The Breaker
Harry the Breaker
The man was really game

Around about the '90s in the west of New South Wales
And under starry Queensland skies, the drover's told their tales
About a daring horseman known to all Morant by name
There never was a lively cult, the Breaker couldn't tame

Harry the Breaker
The man was really game

An admiral in Devon once had taught the boy to dare
But in the bush or pedigree won't get you anywhere
The drovers always found Morant a man of right good cheer
And when the Breaker cashed his cheque, he really liked his beer

Harry the Breaker
The man who knew no fear

The Melbourne hunt clubs knew him well, their socials he'd attend
And many Sydney gentlemen were glad to call him friend
The ballads that the Drover wrote beneath the starlit skies
He would recite at parties grand, before admiring eyes

Harry the Breaker
The man who knew no ties
Coo eee eee dee

In Adelaide he found he'd take the droving routes no more
For as a mounted trooper, Harry went to fight the Boer
And went on leave in England, he soon found his promised pride
And chased a fox in Devon with his sweetheart by his side

Harry the Breaker
The man who always tried

And now there's gallant horsemen still the man who had no fears
Accepted a commission in the Bushveldt Carbineers
The war was nearly over but the cleaning up was tough
The rules were rather hazy and the going very rough

Harry the Breaker
He never cried enough

The Boers had shot his wounded friend, the brother of his girl
So Harry shot his prisoners, his head was in a whirl
He stood court-martial like a man, a man who has his pride
And talking to the firing squad was how the breaker died

Harry the Breaker
May he in peace abide