The Ghost of the Murderer’s Hut (Andrew Barton Paterson Poems)
My horse had been lamed in the foot In the rocks at the back of the run, So I camped ...
My horse had been lamed in the foot In the rocks at the back of the run, So I camped ...
The stranger came from Narromine and made his little joke-- "They say we folks in Narromine are narrow-minded folk. But ...
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in the Billabong, Under the shade of a Coolabah tree; And he sang ...
Awake, of Muse, the echoes of a day Long past, the ghosts of mem'ries manifold -- Youth's memories that once ...
'Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog By the troopers of the upper Murray side, ...
It's grand to be a squatter And sit upon a post, And watch your little ewes and lambs A-giving up ...
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