Category : australian

How McDougal Topped The Score

IMGP0913 maher 200 love 100 Originally uploaded by RaeA. A peaceful spot is Pipers Flat. The fold that live around They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground But the climate is erratic and the consequences are The struggle with the elements is everlasting war We plough and sow and harrow, then

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The Last Leap

All is over! fleet career, Dash of greyhound slipping thongs, Flight of falcon, bound of deer, Mad hoof-thunder in our rear, Cold air rushing up our lungs, Din of many tongues. Once again, one struggle good, One vain effort; — he must dwell Near the shifted post, that stood Where the splinters of the wood,

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On the Night Train

Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by? Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry; Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky? Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold: “I’m the Mother-Bush

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Faces In The Street

They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone That want is here a stranger, and that misery’s unknown; For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet My window-sill is level with the faces in the street Drifting past, drifting past, To the beat of weary feet While I sorrow

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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 dull on this selection now, Since Andy went a-droving. Who now shall wear the cheerful face In times when things are

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Five Bells

Time that is moved by little fidget wheels Is not my time, the flood that does not flow. Between the double and the single bell Of a ship’s hour, between a round of bells From the dark warship riding there below, I have lived many lives, and this one life Of Joe, long dead, who

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My Country by Dorothea Mackellar

The love of field and coppice Of green and shaded lanes Of ordered woods and gardens Is running through your veins Strong love of grey-blue distance Brown streams and soft dim skies I know, but cannot share it My love is otherwise I love a sunburnt country A land of sweeping plains Of ragged mountain

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A Bush Christening – A.B. Paterson

On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few, And men of religion are scanty, On a road never cross’d ‘cept by folk that are lost, One Michael Magee had a shanty. Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad, Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned; He was strong as the best,

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