It was a mighty snug resort, that… A snug resort where fellows dined… The boarders all had gone to bed,… When Pat suggested to his pal ’tw… They drifted to the closing bar, a…

Somebody’s horse has finished his… Somebody’s saddle is on; But never a nigger the tracks can… Or know where Somebody’s gone. Over the rails and up the creek,

‘A well-bred horse! but he won’t g… Though I’ve done the best 1 can; He keeps as poor as a blessed rat!… Said the sorrowful stable-man. ‘I’ve bled and I’ve blistered him…

Three droving men, some three week… Sat drinking the Queensland rum; ’Twas four a.m. when twa o’ them Saw jock M’Phee succumb. Hech! they were giddy songs he’d s…

Gray eyes and gamboge hair! One barmaid of 'The Crown’! Ah, will that beaming siren still… When I go next to town? - When over-night much spirit I had…

When the last rousing gallop is en… And the last post-and-rall has bee… And a cracked neck that cannot be… Shall have under the yew-tree been… Just you leave him alone-in God’s…

The morning-tide is fair and brigh… With golden sun up-springing; The cedars glowed in the new-born… And the bell-bird’s note was ringi… While diamonds dropped by dusky N…

We trucked the cows to Homebush,… Went West through Cunnamulla, and… Camped a while at Gonybibil - but… It for the place where you and Mi… Young Merino bought the station,…

He was a bachelor, gallant and gay She was a spinster prim - Pretty and prim, with a wonderful… Which had captivated him. Oh! well knew she what he wished t…

One fox-faced virgin, word for wor… Repeats each sland’rous thing she’… And sourly smiles as scandal slips With gusto from her thin white lip… She’s bad enough! but list a minut…

What are you doing now, Paddy Mag… Grafting, or spelling now, Paddy… Breaking, or branding? Or overlanding, Out on the sand ridges, Paddy Mag…

Athwart the star-lit midnight sky Luminous fleecy clouds drift by, As the mysterious, pallid moon Sinks in the waveless still lagoon… Now that the queen of night is dea…

So now the Brands Seek other lands; Alack! long ere they reach ‘em A fickle crowd Will cheer as loud

Never before was daughter of Eve… There be none of God’s holy angel… As thine, nor dreamer has ever dre… There’s a gleam in your golden tre… There is witchery in your smile,…

A dandy old horsernan is Brigalow… Which his name, sir, is Michael O… Whatever he’s riding, when timber… He is always in front of the crowd… A few tangled locks that are fast…