Scots of the Riverina
The boy cleared out to the city from his home at harvest time They were Scots of the Riverina, and to run from home was a crime. The old man burned his letters, the
Middleton's Rouseabout
Tall and freckled and sandy, Face of a country lout; This was the picture of Andy, Middleton’s Rouseabout. Type of a coming nation, In the land of cattle and sheep, Worked on Middleton’s station,
Out Back
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought, The cheque was spent that the shearer earned, And the sheds were all cut out; The publican’s words were short
Sweeney
It was somewhere in September, and the sun was going down, When I came, in search of ‘copy’, to a Darling-River town; ‘Come-and-have-a-drink’ we’ll call it ’tis a fitting name, I think And ’twas
The Old Bark School
It was built of bark and poles, and the floor was full of holes Where each leak in rainy weather made a pool; And the walls were mostly cracks lined with calico and sacks
Andy's Gone With Cattle
Our Andy’s gone to battle now ‘Gainst Drought, the red marauder; Our Andy’s gone with cattle now Across the Queensland border. He’s left us in dejection now; Our hearts with him are roving. It’s
The Song of Australia
The centuries found me to nations unknown – My people have crowned me and made me a throne; My royal regalia is love, truth, and light – A girl called Australia – I’ve come
Cameron's Heart
The diggings were just in their glory when Alister Cameron came, With recommendations, he told me, from friends and a parson ‘at hame’; He read me his recommendations he called them a part of
The Ships that Won't Go Down
We hear a great commotion ‘Bout the ship that comes to grief, That founders in mid-ocean, Or is driven on a reef; Because it’s cheap and brittle A score of sinners drown. But we
The City Bushman
It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent; And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and
The Wreck Of The 'Derry Castle'
Day of ending for beginnings! Ocean hath another innings, Ocean hath another score; And the surges sing his winnings, And the surges shout his winnings, And the surges shriek his winnings, All along the
The Loveable Characters
I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best, For there I am never a saint; There are lovable characters out in the West, With humour heroic and quaint; And, be it Up
The Shearers
No church-bell rings them from the Track, No pulpit lights theirblindness ‘Tis hardship, drought, and homelessness That teach those Bushmen kindness: The mateship born, in barren lands, Of toil and thirst and danger, The
A Song of the Republic
Sons of the South, awake! arise! Sons of the South, and do. Banish from under your bonny skies Those old-world errors and wrongs and lies. Making a hell in a Paradise That belongs to
Jack Dunn of Nevertire
It chanced upon the very day we’d got the shearing done, A buggy brought a stranger to the West-o’-Sunday Run; He had a round and jolly face, and he was sleek and stout, He