Dust, dust, dust and a dog— Oh! The sheep-dog won’t be last. When the long, long, shadow of the… With the shadow of his mate is cas… A brick-brown woman with the brick…

He had offices in Sydney, not so… And his shingle bore the legend ‘… But his real name was Careless, a… And his relatives decided that he… ‘Twas their gentle tongues that bl…

Heed not the cock-sure tourist, Seeing with English eyes; Stroked at the banquet table Still, with the old stock lies— Pet of a social circle,

You’re off away to London now, Where no one dare ignore you, With Southern laurels on your bro… And all the world before you. But if you should return again,

This poem is from a short story by Henry Lawson, “Jack Cornstalk”, the first section written especially for the story, with the other sections (interspersed within the rest of the story...

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…

The Lady of the Motor Car she st… Her face is like the stone, my fri… Her face is like the stone, my fri… Because her heart is dead, my frie… The Lady of the Motor Car she sp…

The motor car is sullen, like a th… The motor car is master of Smart… ’Twas born of sweated genius and c… ’Twas planned by Retribution to r… And straight for Caesar’s Column,

As it was in the beginning, so we’… For a lover, or a brother, or a sw… As it was in the beginning, so we’… When weak women hug their babies,… As ’tis written now, or spoken, so…

When the wars of the world seemed… Ten years ago in Australia, I wro… And I pictured Australians fighti… For the old things, pride or count… And they lounged on the rim of Au…

O I dreamt I shore in a shearing… For every one of the rouseabouts w… Dressed up like a page in a pantom… They had flaxen hair they had coal… There was short plump girls there…

I met her on the Lachlan Side— A darling girl I thought her, And ere I left I swore I’d win The free-selector’s daughter. I milked her father’s cows a month…

At suburban railway stations—you m… there are signboards on the platfo… And to me the whirr and thunder an… Seem to be forever saying ‘Second… Wait here second class

If they missed my face in Farmers… When the landlord lit the lamp, They would grin and say in their c… 'Oh! he’s down at the Gipsy camp!… But they’d read of things in the…

There’ll be royal times in Sydney… There’ll be lots of dreary drivel… From the men who own Australia, b… And who could not point their runs… Oh, the daily Press will grovel a…