#AustralianWriters
Now the tent poles are rotting, th… And the possums may gambol in tree… I am humping my bluey far out on t… And the prints of my bluchers sink… I am out on the wallaby humping my…
Why are the sheoaks forever sighin… (Sheoaks that sigh when the wind i… Why are the dead hopes forever dyi… (Dead hopes that died and are with… As you make it and what you will.
BLACKSOIL PLAINS were grey… Fifteen years away, and five hundr… Swag and bag and billy carried all… Before we were married, and I wis… River banks were grassy—grassy in…
Drums of all that’s right and wron… And the new-born baby hears them a… Drums of all that is to be, and al… And we hear them when we’re dreami… Drums of martyred innocence and dr…
I Looked upon the lilies When the morning sun was low, And the sun shone through a lily With a softened honey glow. A spot was in the lily
When we’ve arrived by boat or rail… And humped our heavy gladstones to… And when we’ve had a wash and brus… And ate a hearty country meal—our… (Damn the city!)
It was somewhere in September, an… When I came, in search of 'copy’,… 'Come-and-have-a-drink’ we’ll call… And ‘twas raining, for a wonder, u… ’Neath the public-house verandah…
Old Mate! In the gusty old weath… When our hopes and our troubles we… In the years spent in wearing out… I found you unselfish and true— I have gathered these verses toget…
When Charley sang of Polan’s D… 'Twould stir your heart and soul… you’d grip your seat and hold yo… And want to fight for Polan’
It is night-time when the saddest… When outside the printing office t… When the love-wrong is accomplishe… That the blackest lies are written… ’Tis the time of “late editions”.…
They proved we could not think nor… They proved we could not write, They proved we drank the day away And raved through half the night. They proved our stars were never u…
A black-sheep, from England, who… Riding where the stockmen ride— He sat by the hut when the day’s w… Lone huts where the black sheep bi… “I’m tired of my life!” to his lon…
Oh, Scotty, have you visited the… And did you see the portraits of t… The portraits made by Longstaff,… Of the King and Queen and Lawson… The King is robed in royal state,…
Some carry their swags in the Gre… Where the bravest battle and die, And a few have gone to their last… And a few have said: Good-bye! The coast grows dim, and it may be…
A lonely young wife In her dreaming discerns A lily-decked pool With a border of ferns, And a beautiful child,