#AustralianWriters
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…
Jack Denver died on Talbragar whe… And there was sorrow round the pla… Jack Denver’s wife bowed down her… And big Ben Duggan by the bed sto… But big Ben Duggan saddled up, an…
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,
Far back in the days when the blac… In long single file ’neath the eve… The wool-teams in season came down… And journeyed for weeks on their w… ’Twas then that our hearts and our…
Some born of homely parents For ages settled down— The steady generations Of village, farm, and town: And some of dusky fathers
Long Bill, the captain of the pus… And wished to change his life and… ’Twas rumour’d that the Gory B.'s… That he would turn respectable and… He craved the kiss of innocence; h…
When you’ve managed with the tailo… And you find the coat or trousers… Do not fret and swear and worry, m… I have been through many new suits… When your girl is interfering with…
A long farewell to Genoa That rises to the skies, Where the barren coast of Italy Like our own coastline lies. A sad farewell to Genoa,
By Lawson’s Hill, near Mudgee, On old Eurunderee— The place they called “New Pipecl… Where the diggers used to be— On a dreary old selection,
Who Was Found Dead Near This Tr… (Don’t Cut Down this Tree, for a… Oh, the wild black swans fly westw… While the sun goes down in glory— And away o’er lonely plain and hil…
It was somewhere in September, an… When I came, in search of 'copy’,… 'Come-and-have-a-drink’ we’ll call… And ‘twas raining, for a wonder, u… ’Neath the public-house verandah…
There are writers great and writer… And writers on the spree; And writers short and writers tall… And bards of low degree. There are artists small and artist…
It was built of bark and poles, an… Where each leak in rainy weather m… And the walls were mostly cracks l… There was little need for windows… Then we rode to school and back by…
Once more I write a line to you, While darker shadows fall; Dear friends of mine who have been… And steadfast through it all. If I have written bitter rhymes,
The rafters are open to sun, moon,… Thistles and nettles grow high in… The chimneys are crumbling, the lo… And green mosses spring from the h… The voices are silent, the bustle…
