Singing morning has begun. Where the wooded ranges run To far summits, there the snow Lingers yet. But down below In the quiet, green-girt places,

‘Dreamin’?' I sez to Digger Smit… ‘Buck up, ole sport, an’ smile. Ain’t there enough uv joy to-day To drive the bogey man away An’ make reel things worth while?

Each poet that I know (he said) Has something funny in his head, Some wandering growth or queer dis… That gives to him strange unease. If such a thing he hasn’t got,

Long John McDougal, the wax-end… Solon of the main street, full of… Keen-eyed and frugal, politician,… Pegging there, or stitching by his… Keen-eyed and frugal, Long John…

Now, I always have preserved a ce… Quite definite in reference to Wo… ('Tis futility concealing That I have the Weary Feeling And tendency perennial to shirk)

By the Mediterranean shore, In the days of the cohorts and leg… When oodles of rain used to pour O’er the old agricultural regions, When a deluge came thundering down…

‘Eroes? Orright. You ’ave it ‘ow… Throw up yer little ’at an’ come t… But not too much ‘Three-’Earty-C… There’s other things that 'e’ll be… The boys won’t 'ave them kid-stake…

A golden maid whose golden voice Calls to the northern lands, Of riches she has had her choice. Twin treasures to make men rejoice Came easy to her hands:

O, Cohen, hear our song of sentim… Withdraw thy sordid thoughts from… And, for, the sake of Empire, gen… Lend us a million quid. If England’s great Financial Hou…

I wondered wot was doin’. First I… Ole Missus Flood wave signals to… I’m in the paddick slashin’ down s… She’s comin’ up the road; an’ if s… An 'andspring I won’t be su’prise…

Chuff! Chuff! Chuff! With a r… Waking every echo on the old bush… Waking, too, the wonder of the way… With the clatter of his engine and… With his front wheels a-wobble and…

What (said the poet) should we car… For all this mad world’s phantasie… For rumours rife upon the air Of terrors looming overseas? If so, the soul were plagued alway

What’s the use? Give it best; Cut her loose; Have a rest. Hope is dead;

Down among the strawberries, Up among the plums, Cheeping in the cherry-tree When early autumn comes, In our silver spectacles

He gleaned all the gossip and he g… Mad Matt, the carrier, delivering… He knew the trooper’s tattle and h… The gossip at the station-yard, th… That high-pitched voice of his, th…