#Australians #XIXCentury #XXCentury
The future was dark and the past w… As they gazed on the sea once more… But a nation was born when the imm… ‘Good-bye!’ as they stepped ashore… In their loneliness they were part…
This poem is from a short story by Henry Lawson, “Jack Cornstalk”, the first section written especially for the story, with the other sections (interspersed within the rest of the story...
It is stuffy in the steerage where… For there’s near a hundred for’ard… They are trav’lers for the most pa… But their linen’s rather scanty, a… Stowed away like ewes and wethers…
The night too quickly passes And we are growing old, So let us fill our glasses And toast the Days of Gold; When finds of wondrous treasure
From Australia . OH, tell me, God of Battles! Oh,… The King is in his trenches, the… The Kaiser with his toiling troop…
If you fancy that your people came… If you hint of higher breeding by… If you’re proud because of fortune… Then I’ll play no second fiddle:… If you think that your profession…
The old year went, and the new ret… The cheque was spent that the shea… and the sheds were all cut out; The publican’s words were short an… and the publican’s looks were blac…
Do you think, you slaves of a thou… You can crush the spirit that has… When you’ve scattered the last of… You will hold the land– ay, you’ll… Till your gold has levelled each m…
NOW, Yankee inventors can beat a… And German professors may take a… For their colours we’re going to l… They’ve invented a wonderful ploug… The scientists call it “the latest…
So you rode from the range where y… Through the ghostly, grey Bush in… You rode slowly at first, lest her… That you were so glad to be gone; You had scarcely the courage to gl…
I’ve just received a letter from a… He’s working down in Auckland whe… The climate’s cooler there, but he… He sends the passage money, and he… (I’d like to see his face again,…
Emblems of storm and danger, Spindrift and mountain stern, Plants that welcome the stranger— Seaweed, tussock, and fern. Known to the world-wide ranger,
Across the stony ridges, Across the rolling plain, Young Harry Dale, the drover, Comes riding home again. And well his stock-horse bears him…
There’ll be royal times in Sydney… There’ll be lots of dreary drivel… From the men who own Australia, b… And who could not point their runs… Oh, the daily Press will grovel a…
She’s milking in the rain and dark… As did her mother in the past. The wretched shed of poles and bar… Rent by the wind, is leaking fast. She sees the “home-roof” black and…