The Beauty And The Dude

A fresh sweet-scented beauty
Came tripping down the street;
She was as fair a vision
As you might chance to meet.
A masher raised his cady
(I dont want to be rude)
He raised it to the lady,
That fresh sweet-scented dude.

They met and talked and simpered
And giggled in the street;
They were as bright a vision
As you might wish to meet.
I dont know what theyre good for,
But dont want to be rude
To the fair sweet-scented beauty
Or the well-upholstered dude.

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

Booth's Drum

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Break O Day

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Reedy River

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Australia's Peril (The Warning)

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

English

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And What Have You To Say

I mind the days when ladies fair
Helped on my overcoat,
And tucked the silken handkerchief
About my precious throat;
They used to see the poets soul
In every song I wrote.

They pleaded hard, but I had work
To do, and could not stay
I used to work the whole night through,
And what have you to say?

Twas clever, handsome woman then,
And I their rising star;
I could not see they worshipped me,
Because I saw too far.
(Tis well for one or two, I think,
That things are as they are.)

(I used to write for writings sake,
I used to write till day,
I loved my prose and poetry,
And what have you to say?)

I guess if one should meet me now
That she would gasp to think,
She ever knew a thing like me,
As down the s...

Henry Lawson

The Peace Maker

It has a point of neither sex
But comes in guise of both,
And, doubly dangerous complex,
It is a thing to loathe,
A lady with her sweet, sad smile,
A gentleman on oath.

Strip off the mother-veil, and fur!
And signs of quiet taste.
The dead childs locket take from her
(The dead mans gift in haste)
And wash from every evil line
The layers of filling paste!

From saddened eyes the hells own glare!
From sweet mouth blasphemy!
Wrench out the gold-filled false teeth there
That twice mock honesty,
And leave the evil face awry
For married folk to see.

For foolish girl wives in despair,
For mens and childrens sakes,
Let loose the glossed and padded hair
To writhe like scorching snakes!
And strip the barren bod...

Henry Lawson

The Sorrows Of A Simple Bard

When I tell a tale of virtue and of injured innocence,
Then my publishers and lawyers are the densest of the dense:
With the blank face of an image and the nod of keep-it-dark
And a wink of mighty meaning at their confidential clerk.

(When, Oh! tell me when shall poets cease to be misunderstood?
When, Oh! When? shall people reckon rhymers can be any good?
Do their work and pay their debts and drink their pint of beer, and then,
Look in womans eyes and leave them, just like ordinary men?)

Is there literary friendship twix the sexes? dont you think?
And they wink their idiotic and exasperating wink.
Cant we kiss a clever woman without wanting any more?
And their clock-work nod is only more decided than before.

But if I should hint that theres a little wom...

Henry Lawson

The King And Queen And I

Oh, Scotty, have you visited the Picture Gallery,
And did you see the portraits of the King and Queen and me?
The portraits made by Longstaff, and the pictures done by Jack,
Of the King and Queen and Lawson and the lady all in black?

The King is robed in royal state, with medals on his breast,
And, like the mother Queen she is, Her Majesty is dressed.
The ladys dressed in simple black and sports no precious stones,
And I a suit of reach-me-downs I bought from Davy Jones.

Were strangers two to two, and each unto the other three,
I do not know the lady and I dont think she knows me.
Were strangers to each other here, and to the other two,
And they themselves are strangers yet, if all we hear is true.

I spose were just as satisfied as folks have ever been:

Henry Lawson

The Imported Servant

The Blue Sky arches oer mountain and valley,
The scene is as fair as a scene can be,
But Im 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 its O! for the smell of the fried fish frying
By the flaring stalls on a Saturday night.

And this, oh, this is the lonely sequel
Of all I pictured would come to pass!
They are treating me here as a friend and equal,
But theyd say in London that theyre no class.
When I think of their kindness my tears flow faster,
The girls are free and the chaps are grand:
Its the boss and the missus for mistress and master,
And they may be right, But I dont understand.

I see the air in its warm ...

Henry Lawson

New Life, New Love

The breezes blow on the river below,
And the fleecy clouds float high,
And I mark how the dark green gum trees match
The bright blue dome of the sky.
The rain has been, and the grass is green
Where the slopes were bare and brown,
And I see the things that I used to see
In the days ere my head went down.
I have found a light in my long dark night,
Brighter than stars or moon;
I have lost the fear of the sunset drear,
And the sadness of afternoon.
Here let us stand while I hold your hand,
Where the lights on your golden head,
Oh! I feel the thrill that I used to feel
In the days ere my heart was dead.

The storms gone by, but my lips are dry
And the old wrong rankles yet,
Sweetheart or wife, I must take new life
From your red lips warm and ...

Henry Lawson