#Australians #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Now this is a rhyme that might wel… Gummed in your hat till the end of… Say Good-bye when your chum is ma… Say Good-bye while the church-bel… Say Good-bye—if you ask why must…
So you’re writing for a paper? W… To be writing yards of drivel for… You are young and educated, and a… But you’ll never run a paper like… Though in point of education I am…
The shearers squint along the pens… The shearers squint along the boar… They have no time to straighten up… But when the Boss is looking on,… The 'rouser’ has no soul to save.…
THE Salvation Army does good business in some of the outback towns of the great pastoral wastes of Australia. There’s the thoughtless, careless generosity of the bushman, whose pockets ...
He was lengthsman on the railway,… That “pre-eminence in sorrow” of t… But as dear to him and precious we… Were the workman’s little daughter… Speak their names in tones that li…
I want to be lighting my pipe on d… With my baggage safe below— I want to be free of the crowded q… While the steamer’s swinging slow. I want to be free of treachery,
There’s many a schoolboy’s bat and… For he hears a voice in the future… A serious light in his eyes is see… He keeps his kit and his rifle cle… But straight or crooked, or round,…
I’ll tell you what you wanderers,… Don’t look into a good girl’s eyes… It’s hard to go away alone and lea… It’s hard to travel steerage when… To reach a place when times are ba…
To my fellow sinners all, who, in… Through the Commonwealth to-night… New Year’s Resolutions are jerry-… But I want to say to you, “Give y… You who drink for drinking’s sake,…
He’d been for years in Sydney “a-… His name was Joseph Swallow, “the… In spite of all the stories and sk… And so his friends held meetings (… To advertise their little selves a…
’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…
I cannot blame old Israel yet, For I am not a sage— I shall not know until I get The son of my old age. The mysteries of this Vale of Tea…
Oh, the track through the scrub gr… And lower and lower his grey head… For the swagman is old and the swa… He’s been tramping for over a cent… He tramps in a worn-out old “side…
’Tis glorious morning everywhere Save where the alleys lie— I see the fleecy steam jets bid “Good morning” to the sky. The gullies of the waratah
I met Jack Ellis in town to-day— Jack Ellis—my old mate, Jack— Ten years ago, from the Castlerea… We carried our swags together away To the Never-Again, Out Back.
