Alas, my dear, be you high-born, Or just a Sydney cutie, I fear you’ve earned a he-man’s sc… Thro’ failing in your duty. A lady would avert her eyes,

Now, my gift of crude invective is… And I’ve quite a flair for fierce… But I have to sit and watch the p… Just because my countrymen seek mo… But, ah, what verbal lightnings ro…

I walked out with an alderman, all… He was an august alderman, and muc… Of roads and drains and bridges ..… His veins stood out in ridges, his… Then anger aldermanic came as the…

We roam about the countryside And view the farmlands rolling wid… A picture surely this of peace, of… We mark within these sylvan scenes The whirr and clatter of machines

‘Mother, may I go in to swim?’ ‘My dear, you didn’t oughter. I’ve heard of baths filled to the… With something more than water.’ ‘Mother, I want to learn to swim.…

With the advent of the Autumn Trees behave as Nature taught 'em… Maple, Sumach, Plum and Poplar,… Ere they shed the Summer fashion, Break into a perfect passion

For, even in the most altruistic mood, there are some I bar.) Workers, shirkers, writers, skiters, philosophers and others, Of the class that habitually looketh even beyond its nose. To...

Up and down the roads they go Vale to hill, and hill to vale Leading on to Omeo Over many an olden trail Dainty lady of the hills,

Fellers of Australier, Blokes an’ coves an’ coots, Shift yer— carcases, Move yer— boots. Gird yer— loins up,

Eight days to beer! A sigh sweeps… Sweeps like a gale from 'Frisco t… ('Say! But it’s tough, this long… Oh boy! I’m rarin’ to get at tha… Six days to beer! Was ever waiti…

When PHARAOH chased the chosen… Things seemed to hint at failure i… For ’tis written that the Opposit… But we’ve never been enlightened o… But probably before the wave came…

The cattle-lands of Corryong, The maiden of the snows (Where silver streams the winter l… Sing pleasantly their tinkling son… Not many a town man knows.

Here’s to every Aussie fellow, Who refused to show the yellow When depression’s clammy hand Cast its shadow o’er the land. Here’s to them who never altered

B. SMITH would most undoubtedly… If some rude person called him Ja… To see how he could argue otherwis… A Jap is human - or a rumour’s ri… And he talks and argues much the s…

Three hills lead on to Lilydale, Where runs the White Horse Road. Three slopes dip down into the val… The placid vale of Lilydale, That somnolent abode