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The Days when we went Swimming

The breezes waved the silver grass,  Waist-high along the siding,

And to the creek we ne'er could pass  Three boys on bare-back riding;

Beneath the sheoaks in the bend  The waterhole was brimming -Do you remember yet, old friend,  The times we "went in swimming"?

The days we "played the wag" from school -  Joys shared - and paid for singly -The air was hot, the water cool -  And naked boys are kingly!

With mud for soap the sun to dry -  A well planned lie to stay us,

And dust well rubbed on neck and face  Lest cleanliness betray us.

And you'll remember farmer Kutz -  Though scarcely for his bounty -He leased a forty-acre block,  And thought he owned the county;

A farmer of the old world school,  That grew men hard and grim in,

He drew his water from the pool  That we preferred to swim in.

And do you mind when down the creek  His angry way he wended,

A green-hide cartwhip in his hand  For our young backs intended?

Three naked boys upon the sand -  Half buried and half sunning -Three startled boys without their clothes  Across the paddocks running.

We've had some scares, but we looked blank  When, resting there and chumming,

One glanced by chance upon the bank  And saw the farmer coming!

And home inmpressions linger yet  Of cups of sorrow brimming;

I hardly think that we'll forget  The last day we went swimming.

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Henry Lawson

Henry Archibald Hertzberg Lawson (17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922)[1] was an Australian writer and bush poet. Along with his contemporary Banjo …

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