Tell a simple little story of a se… Where the soldier birds and farmer… While the sun shines—and they ofte… But it’s all about a young man who… One of Mason’s sons, Jim Mason,…

Heed not the cock-sure tourist, Seeing with English eyes; Stroked at the banquet table Still, with the old stock lies— Pet of a social circle,

He’s gone to England for a wife Among the ladies there; And yet I know a lass he deemed The rarest of the rare. He’s gone to England for a wife;

’Twas in the felon’s dock he stood… His voice with grief was broken, a… He muttered, as that broken nose h… ‘It’s orfal when the p’leece has g… ‘I am a honest workin’ cove, as an…

It is stuffy in the steerage where… For there’s near a hundred for’ard… They are trav’lers for the most pa… But their linen’s rather scanty, a… Stowed away like ewes and wethers…

It was pleasant up the country, C… For you sought the greener patches… And you curse the trams and buses… Though you know the squalid city n… But we lately heard you singing of…

The colours of the setting sun Withdrew across the Western land— He raised the sliprails, one by on… And shot them home with trembling… Her brown hands clung—her face gre…

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

They lie, the men who tell us in a… That want is here a stranger, and… For where the nearest suburb and t… My window-sill is level with the f… Drifting past, drifting past,

I’ve just received a letter from a… He’s working down in Auckland whe… The climate’s cooler there, but he… He sends the passage money, and he… (I’d like to see his face again,…

I’m glad that the Bushmen can’t s… A-doing it tall in the town; I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun… And my collar jumps up and down. I’m wearing a vest that would char…

I cannot blame old Israel yet, For I am not a sage, I shall not know until I get The son of my old age. The mysteries of this Vale of Tea…

No one lives in Golden Gully, for… And its clay shall never sully blu… For the diggers long have vanished… And the bush, by diggers banished,… Now, when dying Daylight slowly d…

They were men of many nations, the… They were men in many places, and… Men of many types and faces, but,… They were men I met in trouble, a… Some were friends, but most were s…

Three bushmen one morning rode up… And one of them called for the dri… They’d only returned from a trip t… And, eager to greet them, the land… He absently poured out a glass of…