Brothers from far-away lands, Sons of the fathers of fame, Here are our hearts and our hands This is our song of acclaim. Lords from magnificent zones, Shores of superlative sway,...
Where the lone creek, chafing nightly in the cold and sad moonshine, Beats beneath the twisted fern-roots and the drenched and dripping vine; Where the gum trees, ringed and ragged, from the mazy margins rise,...