Farewell To Anzac (Cicely Fox Smith Poems)
Oh, hump your swag and leave, lads, the ships are in the bay —We've got our marching orders now, it's ...
Oh, hump your swag and leave, lads, the ships are in the bay —We've got our marching orders now, it's ...
He wore an old blue shirt the night that first we met,An old and tattered cabbage-tree concealed his locks of ...
Grief thief of time crawls off,The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,The knave of pain steals offThe sea-halved faith that ...
Then roll the swag and blanket up,and let us haste awayto the Golden Palmer, boys,where everyone they say,can get his ...
They mustered us up with a royal din,In wearisome weeks of drought.Ere ever half of the crops were in,Or the ...
The sun was in the summer grass,the Coolibahs* were twisted steel;the stockman paused beneath their shadeand sat upon his heel,and ...
Now the tent poles are rotting, the camp fires are dead, And the possums may gambol in trees overhead; I ...
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought, The cheque was spent that the ...
Yearly, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go By the Pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale ...
1895 There's a Legion that never was listed, That carries no colours or crest, But, split in a thousand detachments, ...
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles." Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack? Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? ...
The Argument. Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep Once meek, ...
Selecting in the dining-room The silver of his choice, The burglar heard from chamber gloom A female voice. As cold ...
The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large, That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with ...
We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave At the foot of the Eaglehawk; We fashioned a cross on the ...
The roving breezes come and go On Kiley's Run, The sleepy river murmurs low, And far away one dimly sees ...
Come all you little rouseabouts and climb upon my knee; To-day, you see, is Christmas Day, and so it's up ...
The sheep were shorn and the wool went down At the time of our local racing; And I'd earned a ...
We've travelled per Joe Gardiner, a humping of our swag In the country of the Gidgee and Belar. We've swum ...
The boys had come back from the races All silent and down on their luck; They'd backed 'em, straight out ...
'Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog By the troopers of the upper Murray side, ...
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