#AustralianWriters
They towed the Seabolt down the s… And through the harbour’s mouth; She spread her wings and sailed aw… To seek the sunny South. But, ah! she met with storm on sto…
On the top of Mount Clarence, Al… On the summit of Mount Clarence r… Stands a tall and naked flagstaff,… Russian scare that scares no longe… Yet the flagstaff still is standin…
Our hull is seldom painted, Our decks are seldom stoned; Our sails are patched and cobbled And chains by rust marooned. Our rigging is untidy,
SING us a song in this cynical a… Sing us a song, my friend, While the Flesh and the Devil are… And Death seems the only end. Give it the clatter of hoof-clippe…
There’s a class of men (and women)… Cunning, treacherous, suspicious—f… Brainy, yet without the courage to… Cautiously they feel their way beh… If you save a bit of money, and yo…
Jack Denver died on Talbragar whe… And there was sorrow round the pla… Jack Denver’s wife bowed down her… And big Ben Duggan by the bed sto… But big Ben Duggan saddled up, an…
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…
A fresh sweet-scented beauty Came tripping down the street; She was as fair a vision As you might chance to meet. A masher raised his cady
The gentlemen of Dickens Were mostly very poor, And innocent of grammar, And of parentage obscure; But rich or poor or thriving,
The breezes waved the silver grass… Waist-high along the siding, And to the creek we ne’er could pa… Three boys on bare-back riding; Beneath the sheoaks in the bend
There are scenes in the distance w… On the desolate flats where gaunt… Where the brooding old ridge rises… From his dark lonely gullies of st… There are voice-haunted gaps, ever…
It was the Man from Waterloo, When work in town was slack, Who took the track as bushmen do, And humped his swag out back. He tramped for months without a bo…
It surely cannot be too soon, and… It tones with all Australia’s t… And so I bring an old refrain fro… And lift the good old words again,… She bore me on her tented fields,…
In these days of peace and money,… There are ancient dames in Buckla… Wedding rings of steel and iron, w… And the wearers would not give the… In the days of black oppression, w…
Now, I think there is a likeness… For he did a lot of trampin’ long… He was 'union’ when the workers fi… And I’m glad that old St Peter k… When the ancient agitator and his…