#Australians
Big Doc. Littlejohn, and ugly man… He wasn’t very graceful, no part o… Big, frame, big head, huge hands,… But gentle as a woman’s as he stoo… His great voice muted and the jaw…
‘Now, be the Hokey Fly!’ sez Pet… ‘Suppose ’e comes ‘ome with a wood… Suppose ’e isn’t fit to darnce at… Then, ain’t we 'asty fixin’ up thi… A little tournament at Bridge is…
Do you know Fred? Now there’s a… These days when politics are in th… An’ argument is bargin’ to an’ fro Without a feller gittin’ anywhere. Fred never argues; he’s too shrewd…
He sat upon a fallen log And heaved a long, deep sigh. His gnarled hand fondling his old… As his gaze went to the sky. “There goes another pane,” said he
I knew a careful lady once Who read a book by Dr. Bunce, A wise authority on wogs That roam about in dust and fogs; Indeed, he pointed out, all air,
Sing a song o’ Hempire Mother’s took a fit, Nasty Germans buildin’ ships, An’ never mentioned it. Buildin’ beastly warships,
World war had come - and gone. I… Spent, broken, by the last despair… Unfitted to attack or yet defend, The nations’ panting remnants skul… A listless, brutish rest, where no…
King of all the old town, gaoler,… Bane of heavy sinners doing things… Terror of the cattle-duffers in th… Keeping watch on criminals, cautio… On those brief hours, in old days,…
But a scant 2000 folk, no more, Sitting solemn-faced within the pe… While the parsons preach and outwa… In divers tones, their own peculia… Folk of sobriety,
Fierce on the wheat-sown Mallee p… The ruthless summer suns burned do… And dust-storms, heralding the rai… Swept thro’ the street and on agai… While tradesfolk cursed in the old…
I venerate economists As very learned blokes, But when in paradox they speak Their meaning oft I vainly seek, Suspecting subtle jokes.
Well I remember him - Big Jack H… Big Jack, the lumper, tanned and… The clean, straight limbs of him, The strength in those limbs of him Strength that was the end of him,…
I don’t know what’s come to the su… In these dull and decadent years; But a fellow grows glummer and glu… As promise of autumn appears; For there’s not been a sign of a w…
Old Pete Paraday, his mind works… But, when it fastens on a thoughts… He measures it and mumbles it unti… Just as he mumbles bits and scraps… ‘I likes to think a bit,’ says he.…
‘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?