Works

Easter Monday in the city,
Rattle, rattle, rumble, rush;
Tom and Jerry, Nell and Kitty,
All the down-the-harbour 'push,'
Little thought have they, or pity,
For a wanderer from the bush.
...

Hark, the sound of it drawing nearer,
Clink of hobble and brazen bell;
Mark the passage of stalwart shearer,
Bidding Monaro soil farewell.

Where is he making for? Down the river,...

The rum was rich and rare,
There were wagers in the air,
The atmosphere was rosy, and the tongues were wagging free;
But one was in the revel
Whose occiput was level...

The western sun, ere he sought his lair,
Skimm'd the treetops, and glancing thence,
Rested awhile on the curling hair
Of Kitty McCrae, by the boundary fence;
Her eyes looked anxious, her cheeks were pale,...

On Nungar the mists of the morning hung low,
The beetle-browed hills brooded silent and black,
Not yet warmed to life by the sun's loving glow,
As through the tall tussocks rode young Charlie Mac....