#AustralianWriters
But what’s the use of writing ‘bus… Though editors demand it— For city folk, and farming folk, Can never understand it. They’re blind to what the bushman…
THERE can be no doubt but that without sentiment the world would be worse than it now is; but sentiment, though a good servant, is a bad master. Though not wishing to make a virtue of s...
He has notions of Australia from… Land of leggings and revolvers, la… So he begs old shirts, and someone… He is shipped as ‘general servant,… (In the steamer’s grimy alley, hat…
There are three lank bards in a bo… Ah! The number is one too few— They have deemed their home and th… For the thing that they have to do… Three glasses they fill with the…
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,…
’Twas in a tug-of-war where I—the… Stepped proudly on the platform as… Old dad was in his glory there—it… To fight a passage through the cro… A friend came up and said to me, '…
Ah, well! but the case seems hopel… The people gabble of old things ov… For the sake of the sleek importer… While hundreds of boys in Austral… A new generation has risen under…
Now up and down the siding brown The great black crows are flyin’, And down below the spur, I know, Another `milker’s’ dyin’; The crops have withered from the g…
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,
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…
I WISH I’d never gone to board In that house where I met The touring lady from abroad, Who mocks my nightmares yet. I wish—I wish that she had saved
Turn the light down, nurse, and le… For the Bush is slipping from me, and the town… Draw the blinds, the streets are l…
When we’ve arrived by boat or rail… And humped our heavy gladstones to… And when we’ve had a wash and brus… And ate a hearty country meal—our… (Damn the city!)
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…
’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…
