#AustralianWriters
His old clay pipe stuck in his mou… His hat pushed from his brow, His dress best fitted for the Sou… I think I see him now; And when the city streets are stil…
The battlefield behind us, And night loomed on the track; The Friends of Fallen Fortunes Were riding at my back. Save those who lay face upward
BRAVE the anger of the wealthy!… Tell the Truth in simple language… And they’ll read it by the slush-l… I have seen the People’s triumph… It as pictured by the campfires do…
While tyrants rule the land, Beneath the Irish skies; While e’er the iron hand Upon our people lies; While sons are driven forth
When God’s wrath-cloud is o’er me… Affrighting heart and mind; When days seem dark before me, And days seem black behind; Those friends who think they know…
Grown tired of mourning for my sin… And brooding over merits— The other night with bothered brow I went amongst the spirits; And I met one that I knew well:
BY RIGHT of birth in southern l… I see my country ruined by the wro… And shall I stand with fireless e… While Mammon builds his Londons o… CHORUS:
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…
Of his beauty, or stature, or colo… But he comes to me as a little man… With a heart somewhere if it wasn’… With a bark or a yelp for his frie… The Japs had taken a permanent fo…
We, three men of commerce, Striving wealth to raise, See but little promise In the coming days; Though our hearts are brittle,
Oh, do you hear the argument, far… The voice of old Saint Peter, in… Growing shrill, and ever shriller,… More in sorrow than in anger, like… Old Saint Peter’s had his trouble…
Oh! this is a joyful dirge, my fri… And this is a clamour of Victory,… It isn’t a Yelp of the Battlefiel… But an ode to the Things that the… ’Tis a triolet of the Tomb, you b…
Once I wrote a little poem which… And I showed the printer’s copy t… First he praised the thing a littl… ‘The ideas are good,’ he muttered,… So I straighten’d up the rhythm w…
Oh, Great White Czar of Russia,… You’ve flung afar the grandest cha… You might have been, and could hav… The Czar of all the Russias, in f… ‘The Father of your People,’ your…
Shrivelled leather, rusty buckles,… Scorched for months upon the pomme… Shrunken eyes that once were light… And the sores upon our eyelids are… And our hair is thin and dying fro…