#AustralianWriters
‘Love me little, love me long’ - Laggard lover penn’d such song. Rather, Neil!– In other style – Love me much, a little while. If that minstrel ever knew
One fox-faced virgin, word for wor… Repeats each sland’rous thing she’… And sourly smiles as scandal slips With gusto from her thin white lip… She’s bad enough! but list a minut…
Ah, Jack! Time finds us feeble m… And all too swift our years have f… The days are different now to then… In that time when we rode ten ston… The minstrel when his mem’ry goes
Trapping brumbies in the moonlight… ‘Way back on Campbell’s country -… When saddled up and ready qur impa… While we squatted in the gunyah wi… And presently the hoof-beats of th…
Now, all the world is green and br… Outside the latticed pane; The fields are decked with gold an… And Spring has come again. But though the world be fair witho…
Somebody’s horse has finished his… Somebody’s saddle is on; But never a nigger the tracks can… Or know where Somebody’s gone. Over the rails and up the creek,
Oh! the quiet river-crossing Where we twain were wont to ride, Where the wanton winds were to sin… Willow branches o’er the tide. There the golden noon would find u…
Could I borrow the laverock’s lif… Or the silvery song from the black… Then would I warble the whole day… Telling, in floods of passionate s… How worlds might tremble, or skies…
The morning-tide is fair and brigh… With golden sun up-springing; The cedars glowed in the new-born… And the bell-bird’s note was ringi… While diamonds dropped by dusky N…
Three droving men, some three week… Sat drinking the Queensland rum; ’Twas four a.m. when twa o’ them Saw jock M’Phee succumb. Hech! they were giddy songs he’d s…
A dandy old horsernan is Brigalow… Which his name, sir, is Michael O… Whatever he’s riding, when timber… He is always in front of the crowd… A few tangled locks that are fast…
Gray eyes and gamboge hair! One barmaid of 'The Crown’! Ah, will that beaming siren still… When I go next to town? - When over-night much spirit I had…
What are you doing now, Paddy Mag… Grafting, or spelling now, Paddy… Breaking, or branding? Or overlanding, Out on the sand ridges, Paddy Mag…
Athwart the star-lit midnight sky Luminous fleecy clouds drift by, As the mysterious, pallid moon Sinks in the waveless still lagoon… Now that the queen of night is dea…
So Nell was married yesterday! - Let’s fill a bumper mellow, And drain it to old Hymen’s sway… And to the lucky fellow. Time was when 1 was 'gone’ on her:
