There's a fresh track down the paddock Through the lightwoods to the creek, And I notice Billy Craddock And Maloney do not speak, And The Snag is slyly bitter When he's criticising Bill,...
In politics there's room for jest; With frequent gibes are speeches met, And measures which are of the best Are themes for caustic humor yet. E'en though the pulpiteer we fret...
Back again 'n' nothin' missin' barrin' arf a hand, Where an Abdul bit me, chokin' in the Holy Land. 'Struth, they got some dirty fighters in the Moslem pack,...
In days before the trouble Jo was rated as a slob. He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job. He'd loop hisself upon a post, for seldom friends had he, A gift of patient waitin' his distinctif quality....
Out of luck, mate? Have a liquor. Hang it, where's the use complaining? Take your fancy, I'm in funds now, I can stand the racket, Dan. Dump your bluey in the corner; camp here for the night, it's raining;...
'Hello! that's the whistle, be moving. Wake up! don't lie muttering there. What language! your style is improving, It's pleasant to hear you at prayer. Turn out, man, and spare us the blessing....
Simson settled in the timber when his arm was strong and true, And his form was straight and limber; and he wrought the long day through In a struggle, single-handed, and the trees fell slowly back,...
When Flo resolved to go to town from brothers three a yell went up, Predicting ruin and distress. Bill in his horror dropped a cup. 'Gorstruth!' he said, 'in Sydney there what is a simple girl to do?...
My hut is built of stringy-bark, the window's calico, The furniture a gin-case, one bush-table, and a bunk; Thick as wheat on my selection does the towering timber grow,...
I'm lyin' in a narrow bed, 'N' starin' at a wall. Where all is white my plastered head Is whitest of it all. My life is jist a whitewashed blank, With flamin' spurts of pain....
I'm stewing in a brick-built town; My coat is quite a stylish cut, And, morn and even, up and down, I travel in a common rut; But as the city sounds recede, In dreamy moods I sometimes see...
He was almost blind, and wasted With the wear of many years; He had laboured, and had tasted Bitter troubles, many cares; But his laugh was loud and ringing, And his flag was on the mast...
'Late Midshipman John Travers (Chester), aged 16 years. He was mortally wounded early in the action, yet he remained alone in a most exposed post awaiting orders, with his gun's crew dead all round him.'
There are tracks through the scrub, there's a track down the hill, And a track round the bend from M'Courteney's mill, Where they slyly emerge from the bush and converge,...
We're more than partners, Ned 'n' me, Two sections permanently righted. Yiv seen us on the mooch, maybe, Like remnants lovin'ly united. Ned's only got one stump, the left;...
In the morn when the keen blade bites the tree, And the chips on the dead leaves dance, And the bush echoes back right merrily Blow for blow as the sunbeams glance...
'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,...
Would you be the King, the strong man, first in council and in toil, To the men who war with nature for possession of the soil? Take an axe upon your shoulder, take a billy and a rug,...
The Spring is gone. I have not seen Its fairies tripping on the Block, Arcadians in grey and green, The happy flapper in a frock So dainty that the breezes fret It like the smoke of cigarette. ...