I hate the pen, the foolscap fair, The poet’s corner, and the page, For Grief and Death are written t… In every land and every age. The poets sing and play their part…

’Twas in a tug-of-war where I—the… Stepped proudly on the platform as… Old dad was in his glory there—it… To fight a passage through the cro… A friend came up and said to me, '…

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…

Oh! the Cross of deepest blue, With the bright stars shining thro… That was raised, my sons, for you, On a skirt of purest whiteness lon… Long ago,

They stood by the door of the Inn… May Carney looked up in the bushr… ‘Oh! why did you come?—it was mad… You know that the troopers are out… A laugh and a shake of his obstina…

John Cornstalk lives in the South… What says Cornstalk John? Jack Cornstalk says in a loud fir… “Land of the South, lead on.” CHORUS:

I saw it in the days gone by, When the dead girl lay at rest, And the wattle and the native rose We placed upon her breast. I saw it in the long ago

'Where are you going with your hor… And the townsfolk still at rest? Where are you going, with your swa… And the night still in the West? Your clothes are worn, and your ch…

'Twixt the coastline and the borde… In the days before the bushman was… An’ they say the local meeting was… Which was ended pretty often by an… An’ 'tis said the city talent very…

At a point where the old road cros… The river, and turns to the right, I’d camped with the team; and the… Was all fixed up for the night. I’d been to the town to carry

“Please God, we’ll make a scholar… She’s not like an empress, And crowned with raven hair, She is not “pert an’ bonny,” Nor “winsome, wee, an’ fair.”

Fools can parrot-cry the prophet w… And the blind can see the danger w… Truth was never cynicism, death or… “Told-you-so” is not a warning—Pa… Blame will aid no man nor country…

They sing of the grandeur of cliff… But the cliffs of the ocean are tr… And I long to wander and dream an… Where the cliffs by the ocean run… To the northward far as the eye ca…

AMONG the sons of Englishmen Full many feel like real tears, For, though he reigned but scarcel… He bore the burden many years. He lived the dead past doubly down…

’Tis a yarn I heard of a new-chum… On the edge of the Never-Never, Where the dead men lie and the bla… And the bushman lies for ever. ’Twas the custom still with the lo…