It was somewhere in September and the sun was going down
When I came in search of coffee to a darling river town
Come and have a drink we'll call it, tis a fitting name I think
And it was raining for a wonder, up and come and have a drink
Underneath the pufferander I was resting on a bunk
When a stranger rose before me and he said that he was drunk
He apologized for speaking, there was no offense he swore
But he somehow seemed to fancy that he'd seen my face before
He agreed you can't remember
All the chaps you've seen

All the chaps you've chanced to meet
And he said his name was Sweeney, people lived in Sussex Street
He was camping in a stable but he swore that he was right
Only for the blanky horses walking over him all night
He'd apparently been fighting for his face was black and blue
And it looked as though the horses had been treading on
From him too
But an honest genial twinkle in the eye that wasn't hers
Seemed a hint of something better in spite of drinking rags and dirt
He was born in Parramatta and he said with humor grim
That he'd like to see the city ere the liquor finished him
But he couldn't raise the money
He was done with the money and he was gone

And if he could think what the government was doing here
He offered me a drink
I declined with self-denial and I lectured him on booze
Using all the hackneyed arguments that preachers mostly use
Things I'd heard in temperance lectures
I was young and rather green
And I ended by referring to the man he was talking about
But he couldn't stay to argue
For his beer was nearly gone
He was glad he said to meet me
And he'd see me later on
But he guessed he'd have to go
And get his bottle filled again
And he gave a lurch and vanished in the darkness and the rain
And of afternoons in the morning
Cities when the rain is on the land
Visions come to me of Sweeney
With his bottle in his hand