#AustralianWriters
The nearer camp fires lighted, The distant beacons bright— The horsemen on the skyline Are closing in to-night! My brothers, Oh my brothers!
When he’s over a rough and unpopul… With the sins of the bank and the… When he musn’t look black or indul… And thirty or forty men hate him l… I am moved to admit—when the total…
The lovely Port of Sydney Lies laughing to the sky, The bonny Port of Sydney, Where the ships of nations lie. You shall never see such beauty,
A son of elder sons I am, Whose boyhood days were cramped an… Through ages of domestic sham And family lies and family cant. Come, elder brothers mine, and bri…
Black Scots and red Scots, Red Scots and black; I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot, An’ dealt wi’ the black. The Red Scot is angry
Our Andy’s gone to battle now 'Gainst Drought, the red marauder… Our Andy’s gone with cattle now Across the Queensland border. He’s left us in dejection now;
WE THROW us down on the dusty p… When the gold has gone from the we… But we rise and tramp on the track… For we’re tired—too tired to rest. Darker and denser the shadows fall
There is a lasting little flower, That everybody knows, Yet none has thought to think abou… The little Native Rose. The wattle and the waratah—
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…
Here’s never a bough to be tossed… For it’s long since the forest was… And round all the trunks of the na… The marks of the death-ring are se… The solemn-faced bear, who had loo…
He works in the glen where the war… And the gums and the ashes are tal… ’Neath cliffs that re-echo the sou… When the wedges leap in from the m… He comes of a hardy old immigrant…
Wide solemn eyes that question me, Wee hand that pats my head— Where only two have stroked before… And both of them are dead. ‘Ah, poo-ah Daddy mine,’ she says…
The short hour’s halt is ended, The red gone from the west, The broken wheel is mended, And the dead men laid to rest. Three days have we retreated
I met Jack Ellis in town to-day— Jack Ellis—my old mate, Jack— Ten years ago, from the Castlerea… We carried our swags together away To the Never-Again, Out Back.
REGION of damper and junk and t… Region of pastures wide! The fairest spots in the world to… Are out on the Lachlan Side. CHORUS: