#AustralianWriters
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…
If yer gotter corf about yer, Gotter corf— Gotter corf— If yer gotter corf about yer, Gotter cord—
The Valley’s full of misty cloud, Its tinted beauty drowning, The Eucalypti roar aloud, The mountain fronts are frowning. The mist is hanging like a pall
A BLANKET low and leaden, Though rent across the west, Whose darkness seems to deaden The brightest and the best; A sunset white and staring
OLD coach-road West by Nor’-ward… Old mile-tree by the track: A dead branch pointing forward, And a dead branch pointing back. And still in clear-cut romans
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…
By the bodies and minds and souls… In the city’s offal-holes, where t… By the prayers that bubble out, bu… We swear the tyrants of earth to r… By the child that sees the light,…
Texas Jack, you are amusin’. By… When I seen yer rig and saddle wi… Holy smoke! In such a saddle how… Why, I seen a gal ride bareback w… Gosh! so-help-me! strike-me-balmy!…
We have lived till these times, br… We who lived in this; We have not grown old together, Soon our lives must close— Rewi’s first! For I am dying
It was pleasant up the country, C… For you sought the greener patches… And you curse the trams and buses… Though you know the squalid city n… But we lately heard you singing of…
WE must admit that the Centennial celebrations in Sydney were not wholly useless. The glorious occasion called forth from every daily, weekly and monthly periodical, every advertising m...
Day of ending for beginnings! Ocean hath another innings, Ocean hath another score; And the surges sing his winnings, And the surges shout his winnings,
’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…
He’s gone to England for a wife Among the ladies there; And yet I know a lass he deemed The rarest of the rare. He’s gone to England for a wife;
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…