The director form snowy river

There was movement on the ASX, for the word had passed around
That the stock, old Kalina had got away,
And had joined the wild ASX lithium stock — he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the traders had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted traders from the stockmarkets near and far
Had mustered at the Kalina HQ overnight,
For the businessmen love hard dealing where the wild ASX stocks are,
And the Traders snuff the battle with delight.
There was John Byrne, who made his pile when Kalina won the tender,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could trade beside him when his blood was fairly up —
He would go wherever institutions fear to go.
And Tomothy Horgan of lawyer backgorund came down to lend a hand,
No better director ever held the reins;
For never shareholder could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to trade while working for Gillette.
And Ross MacLachlan was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —
And such as are by directors prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won't say die —
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, ‘That stock will never do
‘For a long and tiring develop — lad, you'd better stop away,
‘Those hills are far too rough for such as you.’
So he waited sad and wistful — only John stood his friend —
‘I think we ought to let him come,’ he said;
‘I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
‘For both his horse and he are mountain bred.’
‘He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
‘Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
‘Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
‘The man that holds his own is good enough.
‘And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
‘Where the river runs those giant hills between...