Henry Lawson

We must suffer, husband and father, we must suffer, daughter and son,
For the wrong we have taken part in and the wrong that we have seen done.
Let the bride of frivolous fashion, and of ease, be ashamed and dumb,
For I tell you the nations shall rule us who have let their children come!How shall Australia escape it – we in the South and alone…

The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun's still shining there,
But we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear;
Or we nod and smile the social while, and we say we're doing well,
But we break our…

I
TE this grinding poverty—
To toil, and pinch, and borrow,
And be for ever haunted by

You ask me to be gay and glad
While lurid clouds of danger loom,
And vain and bad and gambling mad,
Australia races to her doom.…

We learnt the creed at Hungerford,
We learnt the creed at Bourke;
We learnt it in the good times
And learnt it out of work.…

I am back from up the country — very sorry that I went — Seeking for the Southern poets' land whereon to pitch my tent;
I have lost a lot of idols, which were broken on the track,
Burnt a lot of fancy verses, and I'm glad that I am…

The squatter saw his pastures wide Decrease, as one by one The farmers moving to the west Selected on his run;
Selectors took the water up And all the black soil round;
The best grass-land the squatter had Was spoilt by Ross's Ground.…

By our place in the midst of the furthest seas we were fated to stand alone -
When the nations fly at each other’s throats let Australia look to her own;
Let her spend her gold on the barren west, let her keep her men at home;
For the South must look to the South for strength in the storm that is to come.Now who shall gallop from cape to cape, and who shall defend our shores -…

We’re marching along, we’re gath’ring strong’
We place on our right reliance,
We fling in the air, for all who care,
Our first loud notes of defiance!…

And they heard the tent-poles clatter,
And the fly in twain was torn –
’Tis the soiled rag of a tatter
Of the tent where I was born.…

Day of ending for beginnings!
Ocean hath another innings,
Ocean hath another score;
And the surges sing his winnings

A Ballad of Ninety-threeOver there, above the jetty, stands the mansion of the Vardens,
With a tennis ground and terrace, and a flagstaff in the gardens:
They are gentlemen and ladies--they’ve been ‘toffs’ for generations,
But old Varden’s been unlucky--lost a lot in speculations.Troubles gathered fast upon him when the mining bubble ‘busted,’…

So the time seems come at last,
And the drums go rolling past,
And above them in the sunlight Labour’s banners float and flow;
They are marching with the sun,…

No church-bell rings them from the Track,
No pulpit lights theirblindness--
’Tis hardship, drought, and homelessness
That teach those Bushmen kindness:…

I saw it in the days gone by,
When the dead girl lay at rest,
And the wattle and the native rose
We placed upon her breast.I saw it in the long ago…

The centuries found me to nations unknown – My people have crowned me and made me a throne;
My royal regalia is love, truth, and light – A girl called Australia – I've come to my right.
Though no fields of conquest grew red at my…

A son of elder sons I am,
Whose boyhood days were cramped and scant,
Through ages of domestic sham
And family lies and family cant.

They have eaten their fill at your tables spread,
Like friends since the land was won;
And they rise with a cry of ”Australia’s dead!”
With the wheeze of ”Australia’s done!”…

In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal,
There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel;
Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old,
And the wearers would not give them,…

He never drew a sword to fight a dozen foes alone,
Nor gave a life to save a life no better than his own.
He lived because he had been born—the hero of my song—
And fought the battle with his fist whene’er he fought a wrong.…

By Lawson’s Hill, near Mudgee,
On old Eurunderee –
The place they called ”New Pipeclay”,
Where the diggers used to be –…

Down here where the ships loom large in
The gloom when the sea-storms veer,
Down here on the south-west margin
Of the western hemisphere,…

We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation’s slime;
Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time.
From grander clouds in our `peaceful skies’ than ever were there before
I tell you the Star of the South shall rise -- in the lurid clouds of war.…

It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep,
For there’s near a hundred for’ard, and they’re stowed away like sheep, --
They are trav’lers for the most part in a straight ’n’ honest path;
But their linen’s rather scanty, an’ there isn’t any bath --…