We were challenged by The Dingoes , they're the pride of Squatter's Gap, To a friendly game of football on the flat by Devil's Trap. And we went along on horses, sworn to triumph in the game,...
What is meant by active service 'Ere where sin is leakin' loose, 'N' the oldest 'and's as nervis As a dog-bedevilled goose, Has bin writ be every poet What can rhyme it worth a dam,...
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,...
Happy he in whom the honest love of fair endeavour lingers, Who has strength to do his labour, and has pride to do it well, Carve he gems of purest water with an artist's cunning fingers,...
I slung me khaki suit to-day. Civilian now front heel to chin I 'op round on a single shin; At home in peace I'm bound to stay. 'N' so they've took me duds away. It 'urt like strippin' off me skin!...
We've a tale to tell you of a spavined emit, A bird with a smile like a crack in a hat, Who was owned by M'Cue, of the township of Whroo, The county of Rodney, his front name was Pat....
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,...
A letter came from Dick to-day; A greeting glad he sends to me. He tells of one more bloody fray, Of how with bomb and rifle they Have put their mark for all to see Across rock-ribbed Gallipoli. ...
We don't keep a grand piano in our hut beside the creek, And I'm pretty certain Hannah couldn't bang it, anyhow, But we've got one box of music, and I'd rather hear its squeak...
He's an old grey horse, with his head bowed sadly, And with dim old eyes and a queer roll aft, With the off-fore sprung and the hind screwed badly And he bears all over the brands of graft;...
Don told me that he loved me dear Where down the range Whioola pours; And when I laughed and would not hear He flung away to fight the wars. He flung away, how should he know...
'Tis the tale of Simon Steven, braceman at the Odd-and-Even, At The Nations, in the gully. They were sinking in the rock. Sim was small and wiry rather, and a husband and a father,...
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...