(A Song of 1861.)
Ye sons of industry, to you I belong,
And to you I would dedicate a verse or a song,
Rejoicing o'er the victory John Robertson has won
Now the Land Bill has passed and the good time has come
Now the Land Bill, &c.
No more with our swags through the bush need we roam
For to ask of another there to give us a home,
Now the land is unfettered and we may reside
In a home of our own by some clear waterside.
In a home of our own, &c.
On some fertile spot which we may call our own,
Where the rich verdure grows, we will build up a home.
There industry will flourish and content will smile,
While our children rejoicing will share in our toil.
While our children, &c.
We will plant our garden and sow our own field,
And eat from the fruits which industry will yield,
And be independent, what we long for have strived,
Though those that have ruled us the right long denied.
Though those that have ruled us, &c.