The short hour’s halt is ended, The red gone from the west, The broken wheel is mended, And the dead men laid to rest. Three days have we retreated

“Nobody’s enemy save his own”— (What shall it be in the end?)— Still by the nick-name he is known… “Everyone’s Friend.” “Nobody’s Enemy” stands alone

’Tis no tale of heroism, ’tis no t… But of ordinary boozing, and of du… Of the everlasting friction that m… Tale of nagging and of drinking—an… Name of Jones—perhaps you know hi…

In Possum Land the nights are fai… The streams are fresh and clear; No dust is in the moonlit air; No traffic jars the ear. With Possums gambolling overhead,

Black Scots and red Scots, Red Scots and black; I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot, An’ dealt wi’ the black. The Red Scot is angry

They say he was thrown and run ove… But that is sheer nonsense, of cou… I taught him to ride when a kiddy, And Dan wasn’t thrown from his ho… The horse that Dan rode was a dev…

It was pleasant up the country, C… For you sought the greener patches… And you curse the trams and buses… Though you know the squalid city n… But we lately heard you singing of…

'Tis the song of many husbands, an… That you cannot call me coward now… I have written much for women, whe… But the men who made bad matches c… Oh, the men who made bad matches a…

It is night-time when the saddest… When outside the printing office t… When the love-wrong is accomplishe… That the blackest lies are written… ’Tis the time of “late editions”.…

Ben Boyd’s Tower is watching— Watching o’er the sea; Ben Boyd’s Tower is waiting For her and me. We do not know the day,

The Channel fog has lifted— And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from ‘home.’ The fields our parents longed for—

When you’ve knocked about the coun… When the past, by distance softene… You are haunted oft, wherever or h… By a fancy that you ought to go an… You forget the family quarrels—lit…

We love the land when the world go… And deep, deep down in her thorny… Where nobody comes, and nobody kno… We love the Rose. Oh! we love the… And none to tell us, and none to t…

By his paths through the parched d… Hot rides and the terrible tramps; By the hunger, the thirst, the pri… Of his work in the further most ca… By his worth in the light that sha…