1916
#AustralianWriters
Here’s never a bough to be tossed… For it’s long since the forest was… And round all the trunks of the na… The marks of the death-ring are se… The solemn-faced bear, who had loo…
The old year went, and the new ret… The cheque was spent that the shea… and the sheds were all cut out; The publican’s words were short an… and the publican’s looks were blac…
By hut, homestead and shearing she… By railroad, coach and track– By lonely graves where rest the de… Up-Country and Out-Back: To where beneath the clustered sta…
’Twas in a tug-of-war where I—the… Stepped proudly on the platform as… Old dad was in his glory there—it… To fight a passage through the cro… A friend came up and said to me, '…
Rolling out to fight for England,… Rolling North to fight for Englan… Fighting hard for France and Engl… Fighting hard for Australasia and… Fighting hard.
The lovely Port of Sydney Lies laughing to the sky, The bonny Port of Sydney, Where the ships of nations lie. You shall never see such beauty,
On the top of Mount Clarence, Al… On the summit of Mount Clarence r… Stands a tall and naked flagstaff,… Russian scare that scares no longe… Yet the flagstaff still is standin…
He’d been for years in Sydney “a-… His name was Joseph Swallow, “the… In spite of all the stories and sk… And so his friends held meetings (… To advertise their little selves a…
’Tis a yarn I heard of a new-chum… On the edge of the Never-Never, Where the dead men lie and the bla… And the bushman lies for ever. ’Twas the custom still with the lo…
I’m lyin’ on the barren ground tha… And dunno if my legs or back or he… I’ve got no spirits left to rise a… I’m too knocked up to light a fire… Oh it’s trampin’, trampin’, tra-a-…
They’d parted but a year before—sh… She stammer’d, blushed, held out h… How could he know that all the whi… He called her ‘Miss le Brook,’ an… They’d parted but a year before; t…
So you’re writing for a paper? W… To be writing yards of drivel for… You are young and educated, and a… But you’ll never run a paper like… Though in point of education I am…
With pannikins all rusty, And billy burnt and black, And clothes all torn and dusty, That scarcely hide his back; With sun-cracked saddle-leather,
He had offices in Sydney, not so… And his shingle bore the legend ‘… But his real name was Careless, a… And his relatives decided that he… ‘Twas their gentle tongues that bl…
It was somewhere in September, an… When I came, in search of 'copy’,… 'Come-and-have-a-drink’ we’ll call… And ‘twas raining, for a wonder, u… ’Neath the public-house verandah…