I mind the days when ladies fair Helped on my overcoat, And tucked the silken handkerchief About my precious throat; They used to see the poet's soul In every song I wrote. ...
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...
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,...
So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions "over yonder" of the war I know must come. In the corner, not a vision, but a sign for coming days...
Rolling out to fight for England, singing songs across the sea; Rolling North to fight for England, and to fight for you and me. Fighting hard for France and England, where the storms of Death are hurled;...
They cheered him from the wharf, it was a glorious day: His hand went to his scarf, his thoughts were far away. Oh, he was 'Jolly Good', they sang it long and loud,...
They lifted her out of a story Too sordid and selfish by far, They left me the innocent glory Of love that was pure as a star; They left me all guiltless of 'evil'...
Heed not the cock-sure tourist, Seeing with English eyes; Stroked at the banquet table Still, with the old stock lies, Pet of a social circle, Guest in a garden fair,...
Tell a simple little story of a settler in the West, Where the soldier birds and farmers, and selectors never rest While the sun shines, and they often work in rainy weather, too:...
The theme is ancient as the hills, With all their prehistoric glory; But yet of Corney and his friend, We've often longed to tell the story; And should we jar the reader's ear,...
There's many a schoolboy's bat and ball that are gathering dust at home, For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come;...
Old Time is tramping close to-day, you hear his bluchers fall, A mighty change is on the way, an' God protect us all; Some dust'll fly from beery coats, at least it's been declared....
He's gone to England for a wife Among the ladies there; And yet I know a lass he deemed The rarest of the rare. He's gone to England for a wife; And rich and proud is he....
The future was dark and the past was dead As they gazed on the sea once more, But a nation was born when the immigrants said "Good-bye!" as they stepped ashore! In their loneliness they were parted thus...
By the bodies and minds and souls that rot in a common sty In the city's offal-holes, where the dregs of its horrors lie; By the prayers that bubble out, but never ascend to God,...
There's the same old coaching stable that was used by Cobb and Co., And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago; And the public-private parlour, where they serve the passing swell,...
There's the same old coaching stable that was used by Cobb and Co., And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago; And the public-private parlour, where they serve the passing swell,...