From the document Peace references:

Mick

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I am an old drover, I earn my pay
By tramping this country all over;
With nowhere to stop at the end of the day,
For that is the life of a drover.

And over the highways and byeways I plod,
My clothes are all tattered my feet are ill-shod,
But there isn't a roadway that I haven't trod,
Being forty-five summers a drover.

When the weather is raining, the journey is long
And the cattle get foot-sore and lazy,
Then I help them along with an old droving song
And I hustle them careful and easy.

And when at the end Mr Death comes around,
To tell me my days are all over,
As they bury my bones six feet deep in the ground
My ghost will appear as a drover.

Byrne, Life of a Drover