Jock
There’s a soldier that’s been doing of his share In the fighting up and down and round about. He’s continually marching here and there, And he’s fighting, morning in and morning out. The Boer,
Father Riley's Horse
‘Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog By the troopers of the upper Murray side, They had searched in every gully they had looked in every log, But never
A Dream of the Melbourne Cup
Bring me a quart of colonial beer And some doughy damper to make good cheer, I must make a heavy dinner; Heavily dine and heavily sup, Of indigestible things fill up, Next month they
Opening of the Railway Line
The opening of the railway line… The Governor and all, With flags and banners down the street, A banquet and a ball, Hark to them at the station now! They’re raising cheer on cheer,
A Bush Lawyer
When Ironbark the turtle came to Anthony’s lagoon The hills were hid behind a mist of equinoctal rain, The ripple of the rivulets was like a cheerful tune And wild companions waltzed among the
Shearing at Castlereagh
The bell is set a-ringing, and the engine gives a toot, There’s five-and-thirty shearers here a-shearing for the loot, So stir yourselves, you penners-up, and shove the sheep along The musterers are fetching them
Black Harry's Team
No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, No Devons plump and red, But brindled, black and iron-grey That mark the mountain-bred; For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, With sullen eyes agleam, No stranger’s hand could put a
Over The Range
Little bush maiden, wondering-eyed, Playing alone in the creek-bed dry, In the small green flat on every side Walled in by the Moonbi ranges high; Tell me the tale of your lonely life ‘Mid
The Duties of an Aide-de-camp
Oh, some folk think vice-royalty is festive and hilarious, The duties of an A. D. C. are manifold and various, So listen, whilst I tell in song The duties of an aide-de-cong. Whatsoever betide
Saltbush Bill on the Patriarchs
Come all you little rouseabouts and climb upon my knee; To-day, you see, is Christmas Day, and so it’s up to me To give you some instruction like-a kind of Christmas tale – So
Reconstruction
So, the bank has bust it’s boiler! And in six or seven year It will pay me all my money back of course! But the horse will perish waiting while the grass is germinating,
Anthony Considine
OUT in the wastes of the West countrie, Out where the white stars shine, Grim and silent as such men be, Rideth a man with a history – Anthony Considine. For the ways of
An Emu Hunt
West of Dubbo the west begins The land of leisure and hope and trust, Where the black man stalks with his dogs and gins And Nature visits the settlers’ sins With the Bogan shower,
Weary Will
The strongest creature for his size But least equipped for combat That dwells beneath Australian skies Is Weary Will the Wombat. He digs his homestead underground, He’s neither shrewd nor clever; For kangaroos can
The Man from Iron Bark
It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town, He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down. He loitered here he loitered there, till he was like to drop,