Oh! this is a joyful dirge, my fri… And this is a clamour of Victory,… It isn’t a Yelp of the Battlefiel… But an ode to the Things that the… ’Tis a triolet of the Tomb, you b…

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…

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,…

Weary old wife, with the bucket an… ‘How’s your son Jack? and where i… Haggard old eyes that turn to the… ‘Boys will be boys, and he’s gone… Grief without tears and grief with…

Most unpleasantly adjacent to the… Stood a 'terrace’ in the city when… And a notice indicated there were… In the middle house, and lodgings… Now, a singular observer could hav…

So I sit and write and ponder, wh… Seeing visions “over yonder” of th… In the corner– not a vision– but a… Stand a box of ammunition and a ri… And in this, the living present, l…

They took dead Cromwell from his… And stuck his head on high; The Merry Monarch and his men, They laughed as they passed by The common people cheered and jeer…

The night too quickly passes And we are growing old, So let us fill our glasses And toast the Days of Gold; When finds of wondrous treasure

It’s only a sod, but 'twill break… Nigh hardened wid toilin’ and cari… And make the ould wounds in it tin… It’s only a sod, but it’s parcel a… Of strugglin’, sufferin’ Erin.

The kangaroo was formed to run, but not from man alone - it ran before the horse or gun or native dog was known. It ran when drought left waterhole…

BRAVE the anger of the wealthy!… Tell the Truth in simple language… And they’ll read it by the slush-l… I have seen the People’s triumph… It as pictured by the campfires do…

'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…

They say that I never have writte… As a writer of songs should do; They say that I never could touch… With a touch that is firm and true… They say I know nothing of women…

Ten miles down Reedy River A pool of water lies, And all the year it mirrors The changes in the skies. Within that pool’s broad bosom

It chanced upon the very day we’d… A buggy brought a stranger to the… He had a round and jolly face, and… He drove right up between the huts… We chaps were smoking after tea, a…