It’s oh! for a rivet in marriage b… And a splice in the knot untied— The sanctity of the marriage tie Is growing more sanctified! They’re getting mixed up in societ…

He has notions of Australia from… Land of leggings and revolvers, la… So he begs old shirts, and someone… He is shipped as ‘general servant,… (In the steamer’s grimy alley, hat…

There’s a light out there in the… In the dawn of Nineteen Nine; There’s the old ghost light in the… Where the black rocks meet the bri… Here’s the same old strife and toi…

The blue sky arches o’er mountain… The scene is as fair as a scene ca… But I’m breaking my heart for a L… And fogs that shall never come bac… I choke with tears when the day is…

Ah, better the thud of the deadly… Than the terrible silence where dr… And better the rattle of rifles ne… Than the sound—most hellish of all… On the runs to the west of the Di…

Oh, for the fire that used to glow In those my days of old! I never thought a man could grow So callous and so cold. Ah, for the heart that used to ach…

They lifted her out of a story Too sordid and selfish by far, They left me the innocent glory Of love that was pure as a star; They left me all guiltless of “evi…

The Channel fog has lifted— And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from ‘home.’ The fields our parents longed for—

Tall, and stout, and solid-looking… Yet a wreck; None would think Death’s finger’s… Him from deck. Cause of half the fun that’s start…

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 knows it all, it knows it all, The world of groans and laughter, It sneers of pride before a fall, But the bitter pride comes after: So leave me and I’ll seek you not…

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…

They’re shifting old North Sydney… Perhaps ’tis just as well— They’re carting off the houses Where the old folks used to dwell. Where only ghosts inhabit

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…

I long for the streets but the Lo… For there I am never a saint; There are lovable characters out i… With humour heroic and quaint; And, be it Up Country, or be it…