Ireland Shall Rebel

While tyrants rule the land,
Beneath the Irish skies;
While eer the iron hand
Upon our people lies;
While sons are driven forth
In other lands to dwell,
Still in the South and North
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!

While fanlike from below,
And pale against the skies,
That light of shame the glow
Of burning homes shall rise;
While hot indignant tears
From Irish hearts shall swell:
Be it a thousand years,
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!

Until the tyrants rod
Shall broken be in twain,
And on the dear old sod
Blest freedom treads again;
Or till our masters learn
To rule our country well,
The fires of hate shall burn!
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!

Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson was an Australian writer and poet. Along with Banjo Paterson, he is among the best-known Australian poets and fiction writers of the colonial period and is often called Australia's 'greatest short story writer'. His works frequently document the lives and struggles of rural and outback Australians. Lawson's own life was marked by hardship and struggles including impaired hearing and financial difficulties, which influenced his realist depictions of Australian life. Some of his notable works include 'While the Billy Boils' and 'In the Days When the World was Wide.'

Henry Lawson

A Mate Can Do No Wrong

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Bound For The Lord-Knows-Where

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Here's Luck

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

As far As Your Rifles Cover

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

English

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As Ireland Wore The Green

By right of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?

CHORUS:
        O must we hide our colour
                In fear of Mammons spleen?
                Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
                As Ireland wore the green?
                As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
                As Ireland wore the green!
                Aye, we will wear our colour still,
                As Ireland wore the green!

I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that s...

Henry Lawson

To The Irish Delegates

Farewell! The gold we send shall be a token
Of that which in our hearts is growing strong;
You asked our sympathy, and we have spoken,
They wrong us who our brothers rob and wrong.

Tell Ireland, tell her in her desolation,
That hearts within the South for her have bled,
That scalding tears of helpless indignation
By eyes that read her cruel wrongs are shed.

Helpless no more! but strong to act hereafter,
For silenced arc the loyal subjects sneers,
Too long have Irelands wrongs been words of laughter,
Arch-mockery to tickle British ears.

Tell Ireland that they lie of us, they slander,
Who say we care not for anothers wrong;
For we are not the men to kneel and pander
To tyranny, because the tyrants strong.

Take back across the wave...

Henry Lawson

The Distant Drum

Republicans! the time is coming!
Listen to the distant drumming!
Hearken to the whispers humming
In the troubled atmosphere.

Ye are born to do the toiling;
On and on, and no recoiling!
To the fighting, to the foiling
Of the wrongs that wrong us here.

Let the Loyal laugh and jeer you;
Let them in derision cheer you.
Still the cowards show they fear you
By their deeds and all they say.

Let Britannia rule for ever
Oer the wave; but never, never!
Rule a land great oceans sever
Fifteen thousand miles away.

Stained by persecutions fires
Thinned of homes and thick with spires,
They love the land that bred their sires,
Ye the Land that breeds your sons.

And your sons shall have the reaping,
And your sons shall h...

Henry Lawson

Freedom On The Wallaby

Australia's a big country
An' Freedom's humping bluey,
An' Freedom's on the wallaby
Oh! don't you hear 'er cooey?
She's just begun to boomerang,
She'll knock the tyrants silly,
She's goin' to light another fire
And boil another billy.

Our fathers toiled for bitter bread
While loafers thrived beside 'em,
But food to eat and clothes to wear,
Their native land denied 'em.
An' so they left their native land
In spite of their devotion,
An' so they came, or if they stole,
Were sent across the ocean.

Then Freedom couldn't stand the glare
O' Royalty's regalia,
She left the loafers where they were,
An' came out to Australia.
But now across the mighty main
The chains have come ter bind her,
She little thought to see again
T...

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A Song Of The Republic

Sons of the South, awake! arise!
Sons of the South, and do.
Banish from under your bonny skies
Those old-world errors and wrongs and lies.
Making a hell in a Paradise
That belongs to your sons and you.

Sons of the South, make choice between
(Sons of the South, choose true),
The Land of Morn and the Land of Een,
The Old Dead Tree and the Young Tree Green,
The Land that belongs to the lord and the Queen,
And the Land that belongs to you.

Sons of the South, your time will come,
Sons of the South, tis near,
The Signs of the Times, in their language dumb,
Foretell it, and ominous whispers hum
Like sullen sounds of a distant drum,
In the ominous atmosphere.

Sons of the South, aroused at last!
Sons of the South are few!
But y...

Henry Lawson

A Song Of The Republic

Sons of the South, awake! arise!
Sons of the South, and do.
Banish from under your bonny skies
Those old-world errors and wrongs and lies.
Making a hell in a Paradise
That belongs to your sons and you.

Sons of the South, make choice between
(Sons of the South, choose true),
The Land of Morn and the Land of E'en,
The Old Dead Tree and the Young Tree Green,
The Land that belongs to the lord and the Queen,
And the Land that belongs to you.

Sons of the South, your time will come,
Sons of the South, 'tis near,
The "Signs of the Times", in their language dumb,
Fortell it, and ominous whispers hum
Like sullen sounds of a distant drum,
In the ominous atmosphere.

Sons of the South, aroused at last!
Sons of the South are few!
But yo...

Henry Lawson