Not to the sober and staid, Leading a quiet life, But to men whose paths are laid Ever through storm and strife, Here is a song from me, Sent to the tragic West, Message of sympathy...
The stamp of Scotland is on his face, But he sailed to the South a lad, And he does not think of the black bleak hills And the bitter hard youth he had; He thinks of a nearer and dearer past...
But what's the use of writing 'bush', Though editors demand it, For city folk, and farming folk, Can never understand it. They're blind to what the bushman sees The best with eyes shut tightest,...
By hut, homestead and shearing shed, By railroad, coach and track, By lonely graves where rest the dead, Up-Country and Out-Back: To where beneath the clustered stars The dreamy plains expand. ...
The diggings were just in their glory when Alister Cameron came, With recommendations, he told me, from friends and a parson `at hame'; He read me his recommendations, he called them a part of his plant,...
Of his beauty, or stature, or colour of hair I hadn't the slightest hint, But he comes to me as a little man, with a scrubby beard and a squint, With a heart somewhere if it wasn't there, and an Irish terrier nose,...
The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star, Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar, The chimneys are crumbling, the log fires are dead, And green mosses spring from the hearthstone instead....
A lonely child, with toil o'ertaxed, Sits Cinderella by the fire; Her limbs in weariness relaxed, And in her eyes a sad desire. But soon a wreath is on her brow; A bonny prince has claimed her hand;...
When you see a man come walking down through George Street loose and free, Suit of saddle tweed and soft shirt, and a belt and cabbagetree, With the careless swing and carriage, and the confidence you lack,...
Most unpleasantly adjacent to the haunts of lower orders Stood a 'terrace' in the city when the current year began, And a notice indicated there were vacancies for boarders...
There's a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we don't know if it's true; For we scarcely dare to credit ev'rything they say who edit...
His old clay pipe stuck in his mouth, His hat pushed from his brow, His dress best fitted for the South, I think I see him now; And when the city streets are still, And sleep upon me comes,...
They took dead Cromwell from his grave, And stuck his head on high; The Merry Monarch and his men, They laughed as they passed by The common people cheered and jeered, To England's deep disgrace,...
The nearer camp fires lighted, The distant beacons bright, The horsemen on the skyline Are closing in to-night! My brothers, Oh my brothers! Lie down and rest at last, The Years of Reparation...
Tall, and stout, and solid-looking, Yet a wreck; None would think Death's finger's hooking Him from deck. Cause of half the fun that's started, `Hard-case' Dan, Isn't like a broken-hearted,...
Comes the British bulldog first, solid as a log, He's so ugly in repose that he's a handsome dog; Full of mild benevolence as his years increase; Silent as a china dog on the mantelpiece....
The breezes waved the silver grass, Waist-high along the siding, And to the creek we ne'er could pass Three boys on bare-back riding; Beneath the sheoaks in the bend The waterhole was brimming,...
Two couples are drifting the self-same way (Men of the world know well) From the ballroom glare as the night grows grey (Men of the world can tell). Many are round them who know, and knew,...
I've done with joys an' misery, An' why should I repine? There's no one knows the past but me An' that ol' dog o' mine. We camp an' walk an' camp an' walk, An' find it fairly good;...