#AustralianWriters
Ah, prithee friend, if thou has ou… Of love and kind regard for me Tell not you bore the stories drol… That yesternight I told to thee. Nor tell him stories of thine own,
Stripped to the buff they circled… And jagged and swung and crossed; To uppercut and smash and pound No chances either lost; Till folks opined, in some alarm,
Where have the old accorjins gone? I was askin’ the coves at the Sho… Matt from the Mallee an’ Dandenon… An’ a score of the fellers I know Ole fellers, like me - an’ they’re…
Not guilty, yer Honers! I talks… An’ I calls it a pretty crook gam… An’ an ‘og of a thing, if the copp… Such dishonor as this on me name On me name that ’as stood fer up’o…
‘When I’m sittin’ in me dug-out w… An’ a yowlin’, 'owlin’ chorus come… Jist a bit o’ 'Bonnie Mary’ or '… Then I know I’m in Australia, to… They’ve bin up agin it solid since…
Tho’ I own I have no adequate pro… Of this queer tale of the quaint o… The Goophs who dwelt in the land… Still, I think it’s a credible ta… When applied to Goophs; tho’ it’s…
Did you see them pass to-day, Bil… All astride upon the back of old g… Jigging, jogging off to school, do… What must Dobbin think of it - th… Robin at the bridle-rein, in the m…
Taste? Good taste? It’s been argu… But not many agree on it yet. Much that A may condone B may dee… So by whom is the standard set? Are you thinking of jazz of the in…
Once upon a recent even, as I lay… Weaving dreams and seeing visions… Suddenly I seemed to waken, somew… For I thought my name was mention… ’Twas the Adjective that roused m…
He prospered in an olden day When down the rutted waggon track, Thro’ scenes that seem a world awa… His bullocks lumbered forth and ba… A tall old man, deep voiced, erect
‘Sure thing,’ said the grocer; ‘as… This horse, Peter Pan, is the saf… ‘I see by the paper,’ commanded th… ‘He’s tipped and he carries my who… The butcher said, 'Well, now, it’…
With a sprig in my beak, I repeat… For a spot where a poor bird may r… While tumultuous man strives in va… That may build me a permanent nest… But I’m sick of this search. All…
In the olive groves of Italy Men minds are all aflame; For the war-lust spreads thro’ It… Where war-lords call the game. And they dream of Roman legions
The heathen’s not efficient; He sits down in the sun And doesn’t care a tuppn’y dump When the day’s work’s begun. He works to eat and eats to live,
Of things that roam about the bush… For I knows their ways an’ habits… For man or beast or gully ghost I… But I draws the line at visions w… When a man has fought an’ conquere…