Our Andy’s gone to battle now 'Gainst Drought, the red marauder… Our Andy’s gone with cattle now Across the Queensland border. He’s left us in dejection now;

If you fancy that your people came… If you hint of higher breeding by… If you’re proud because of fortune… Then I’ll play no second fiddle:… If you think that your profession…

They towed the Seabolt down the s… And through the harbour’s mouth; She spread her wings and sailed aw… To seek the sunny South. But, ah! she met with storm on sto…

Jim Duff was a ‘native,’as wild a… A stealer and duffer of cattle was… But back in his youth he had stole… Or a diamond rather—the heart of a… She served with a squatter who liv…

There’s the same old coaching stab… And the yard the coaches stood in… And the public-private parlour, wh… Was the shoeing forge and smithy u… There’s the same old walls and woo…

The brown eyes came from Asia, wh… Ere the masters of Soul Secrets d… And the Brown Eyes came to Egypt… And the Brown Eyes went from Egy… There was strife amongst the Brow…

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,

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,…

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,…

Oh, do you hear the argument, far… The voice of old Saint Peter, in… Growing shrill, and ever shriller,… More in sorrow than in anger, like… Old Saint Peter’s had his trouble…

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…

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…

A dusty clearing in the scrubs Of barren, western lands— Where, out of sight, or sign of ho… The wretched school-house stands; A roof that glares at glaring days…

The world is narrow and ways are s… For little is new where the crowds… Greater, or smaller, the same old… And tired of all is the spirit tha… of the days when the world was wid…

We love the land when the world go… And deep, deep down in her thorny… Where nobody comes, and nobody kno… We love the Rose. Oh! we love the… And none to tell us, and none to t…