Through Death and Trouble, turn about,
    Through hopeless desolation,
Through flood and fever, fire and drought,
    And slavery and starvation;
Through childbirth, sickness, hurt, and blight,
    And nervousness an’ scarin’,
Through bein’ left alone at night,
    I’ve got to be past carin’.
            Past botherin’ or carin’,
            Past feelin’ and past carin’;
            Through city cheats and neighbours’ spite,
            I’ve come to be past carin’.

Our first child took, in days like these,
    A cruel week in dyin’,
All day upon her father’s knees,
    Or on my poor breast lyin’;
The tears we shed—the prayers we said
    Were awful, wild—despairin’!
I’ve pulled three through, and buried two
    Since then—and I’m past carin’.
            I’ve grown to be past carin’,
            Past worryin’ and wearin’;
            I’ve pulled three through and buried two
            Since then, and I’m past carin’.

’Twas ten years first, then came the worst,
    All for a dusty clearin’,
I thought, I thought my heart would burst
    When first my man went shearin’;
He’s drovin’ in the great North-west,
    I don’t know how he’s farin’;
For I, the one that loved him best,
    Have grown to be past carin’.
            I’ve grown to be past carin’
            Past lookin’ for or carin’;
            The girl that waited long ago,
            Has lived to be past carin’.

My eyes are dry, I cannot cry,
    I’ve got no heart for breakin’,
But where it was in days gone by,
    A dull and empty achin’.
My last boy ran away from me,
    I know my temper’s wearin’,
But now I only wish to be
    Beyond all signs of carin’.
            Past wearyin’ or carin’,
            Past feelin’ and despairin’;
            And now I only wish to be
            Beyond all signs of carin’.