He came from tumbled country past the humps of Buffalo Where the snow sits on the mountain 'n' the Summer aches below. He'd a silly name like Archie. Squattin' sullen on the ship,...
Men of all the lands Australian from the Gulf to Derwent River, From the Heads of Sydney Harbour to the waters of the West, There's a spirit loudly calling where the saplings dip and quiver,...
A mile-long panto dragon ploddin' 'opeless all the day, Stuffed out with kits, 'n' spiked with rifles, steamin' in its sweat, A-heavin' down the misty road, club-footed through the clay,...
This war's a waste of slurry, and its atmosphere is mud, All is bog from here to sunset. Wadin' through We're the victims of a thicker sort of universal flood, With discomforts that old Noah never knew. ...
I have a trim typewriter now, They tell me none is better; It makes a pleasing, rhythmic row, And neat is every letter. I tick out stories by machine, Dig pars, and gags, and verses keen,...
The great men framed the fierce decrees Embroiling State with State; They bit their thumbs across the seas In diplomatic hate; They lit the pyre whose glare and heat Make Hell itself seem cold;...
I'm wonderin' why those fellers who go buildin' chipper ditties, 'Bout the rosy times out drovin', an' the dust an' death of cities, Don't sling the bloomin' office, strike some drover for a billet,...
Three other soldier blokes 'n' me packed 'ome from foreign lands; Bit into each the God of Battles' everlastin' brands. They limped in time, 'n' coughed in tune, 'n' one was short an ear,...
Quite a proud and happy man is Finn the Packer Since he built his crazy mill upon the rise, And he stands there in the gully, chewing 'backer,' With a sleepy sort of comfort in his eyes,...
On summer nights when moonbeams flow And glisten o'er the high, white tips, And winds make lamentation low, As through the ribs of shattered ships, And steal about the broken brace...
We specked as boys o'er worked-out ground By littered fiat and muddy stream, We watched the whim horse trudging round, And rode upon the circling beam, Within the old uproarious mill...
Devine came back the other day. We'd planned a great home-comin'. No long trombone we had to play, No fine, heroic drummin'. With two sticks and a milk-can Borne Put up a martial clatter,...