And wherefore have they come, this warlike band, That o’er the ocean many a weary day Have tossed; and now beside Suakim’s Bay, With faces stern and resolute, do stand, Waking the desert’s echoes
In this war we’re always moving, Moving on; When we make a friend another friend has gone; Should a woman’s kindly face Make us welcome for a space, Then it’s boot and saddle, boys,
We have all of us read how the Israelites fled From Egypt with Pharaoh in eager pursuit of ’em, And Pharaoh’s fierce troop were all put “in the soup” When the waters rolled softly
Ambition I am the maid of the lustrous eyes Of great fruition, Whom the sons of men that are over-wise Have called Ambition. And the world’s success is the only goal I have within
The daylight is dying Away in the west, The wild birds are flying In silence to rest; In leafage and frondage Where shadows are deep, They pass to its bondage – The kingdom of
Wargeilah town is very small, There’s no cathedral nor a club, In fact the township, all in all, Is just one unpretentious pub; And there, from all the stations round, The local sportsmen can
We’ve travelled per Joe Gardiner, a humping of our swag In the country of the Gidgee and Belar. We’ve swum the Di’mantina with our raiment in a bag, And we’ve travelled per superior motor
The Maoris are a mighty race the finest ever known; Before the missionaries came they worshipped wood and stone; They went to war and fought like fiends, and when the war was done They
The run of Billabong-go-dry Is just beyond Lime Burner’s Gap; Its waterhole and tank supply Is excellent upon the map. But lacking nature’s liquid drench, The station staff are wont to try With “Bob-in
Said the soldier to the Surgeon, “I’ve got noises in me head And a kind o’ filled up feeling after every time I’m fed; I can sleep all night on picket, but I can’t
It was shearing time at the Myall Lake, And then rose the sound through the livelong day Of the constant clash that the shear-blades make When the fastest shearers are making play; But there
The Boastful Crow and the Laughing Jack Were telling tales of the outer back: “I’ve just been travelling far and wide, At the back of Bourke and the Queensland side; There isn’t a bird
‘Twas Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight; He thought of the Transvaal all the day, he thought of it all the night “Well, if the battery’s left behind, I’ll
Our hero was a Tommy with a conscience free from care, And such an open countenance that when he breathed the air He mopped up all the atmosphere so little went to spare You
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in the Billabong, Under the shade of a Coolabah tree; And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling, “Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”
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