The Glass On The Bar
Three bushmen one morning rode up to an inn, And one of them called for the drinks with a grin; They’d only returned from a trip to the North, And, eager to greet them,
Wide Lies Australia
Wide lies Australia! The seas that surround her Flow for her unity – all states in one. Never has Custom nor Tyranny bound her – Never was conquest so peacefully won. Fair lies Australia!
Shadows Before
“Like clouds o’er the South are the nations who reign On fair islands that we would command; But clouds that are darker and denser than these Have sailed from an Isle in the Northern
For Australia
Now, with the wars of the world begun, they’ll listen to you and me, Now while the frightened nations run to the arms of democracy, Now, when our blathering fools are scared, and the
After All
The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, Though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the
The League of Nations
Light on the towns and cities, and peace for evermore! The Big Five met in the world’s light as many had met before, And the future of man is settled and there shall be
The Never-Never Country
By homestead, hut, and shearing-shed, By railroad, coach, and track By lonely graves of our brave dead, Up-Country and Out-Back: To where ‘neath glorious the clustered stars The dreamy plains expand My home lies
On the Wallaby
Now the tent poles are rotting, the camp fires are dead, And the possums may gambol in trees overhead; I am humping my bluey far out on the land, And the prints of my
The Things We Dare Not Tell
The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun’s still shining there, But we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear; Or we nod and smile
The Man Who Raised Charlestown
They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George – The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge; They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart
The Shame of Going Back
The Shame of Going Back And the reason of your failure isn’t anybody’s fault When you haven’t got a billet, and the times are very slack, There is nothing that can spur you like
The Rhyme of the Three Greybeards
He’d been for years in Sydney “a-acting of the goat”, His name was Joseph Swallow, “the Great Australian Pote”, In spite of all the stories and sketches that he wrote. And so his friends
Send Round the Hat
Now this is the creed from the Book of the Bush – Should be simple and plain to a dunce: “If a man’s in a hole you must pass round the hat – Were
A Song of Brave Men
Man, is the Sea your master? Sea, and is man your slave? – This is the song of brave men who never know they are brave: Ceaselessly watching to save you, stranger from foreign
My Land and I
They have eaten their fill at your tables spread, Like friends since the land was won; And they rise with a cry of “Australia’s dead!” With the wheeze of “Australia’s done!” Oh, the theme