Maybe on account of the lives they lead, or the life that their hearts discard—But never a fool can be too mad or a ‘hard case’ be too hard.I met him in Bourke in the Union days—with which we have nought to do(Their creed was narrow, their methods crude, but they stuck to ‘the cause’…
But I’m breaking my heart for a London alley,And fogs that shall never come back to me.I choke with tears when the day is dying—The sunsets grand and the stars are bright;But it’s O! for the smell of the fried fish fryingBy the flaring stalls on a Saturday night.And this, oh, this is the lonely…
Shall I fly the paltry spirit of a narrow little town,While the battle-drums are beating for the men who live it down?Down the street where all men know me I can walk with level eyes,They believe the lies about me, they can sneer, but I despise.From my black and bitter childhood, from my dull and…
The yard where the Foolish are drafted; Hell’s school where the harmless are taught;For the big beast never is captured and the great thief never is caught.A song of the trollop’s victim, and the dealer in doubtful eggs,And a song of the man who was ruined by the lie with a thousand legs.A song of…
But for me above the alleys there forever shone a star,Where the third-rate public houses and the dens of Venus are.Where the third-rate public housesAnd the fourth-rate lodging houses,And the rag-shops and the pawn-shops and the dens of Venus are.I was born among the alleys, bred in darkness and in doubt,And I wrote the truth…
She was as fair a visionAs you might chance to meet.A masher raised his cady(I don’t want to be rude)He raised it to the lady—That fresh sweet-scented dude.They met and talked and simperedAnd giggled in the street;They were as bright a visionAs you might wish to meet.I don’t know what they’re good for,But don’t want…
No straighter mate to his mates than heHad ever said: ‘Len’s a match!’‘’Twill be long, old man, ere our glasses clink,’Twill be long ere we grip your hand!’—And we dragged him ashore for a final drinkTill the whole wide world seemed grand.For they marry and go as the world rolls back,They marry and vanish and…
Who took the track as bushmen do,And humped his swag out back.He tramped for months without a bob,For most the sheds were full,Until at last he got a jobAt picking up the wool.He found the work was rather rough,But swore to see it through,For he was made of sterling stuff—The Man from Waterloo.The first remark…
When he musn’t look black or indulge in a grin,And thirty or forty men hate him like Sin—I am moved to admit—when the total is scored—That it’s just a bit off for the Boss-of -the-board.I have battled a lot,But my dream’s never soaredTo the lonely position of Boss-of-the-board.’Twas a black-listed shed down the Darling: the…
It was a man’s height, and they spikedA crosspiece to the top.They bound it well with thongs of hide,To make it firm and good;Then roughly, with His back to this,Their enemy they stood.They held His hands upon the piece,And they spiked them to the wood.They mocked Him then—the while He rockedIn agony His head—With things…
