To Tom Bracken

O had you tracked where Kendall trod
I think you would be kneelin
Three times a week and thankin God
That you are of New Zealan!
For this Ill say, to make it short,
An keep my tongue from clacken,
The people are a kinder sort
Youre singin for, Tom Bracken

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

The Cattle-Dog's Death

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

Shearers

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

As It Was In The Beginning

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

The Green-Hand Rouseabout

Henry Lawson, Simple Poetry

English

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Jack Cornstalk

I met with Jack Cornstalk in London to-day,
He saw me and coo-eed from over the way.
Oh! the solemn-faced Londoners stared with surprise
At his hair and his height as compared with his size!
For his trousers were short and his collar was low,
And, theres not room to coo-ee in London, I know.

But I said to him, Jack! as he gripped my hand fast,
Oh, I hear that our Countrys a nation at last!
I hear they have launched the new ship of the State,
And with men at the wheel who are steering it straight.
I hear twas the vote of your Bush mates and you;
And, oh, tell me, Jack Cornstalk, if this can be true?

I hear that the bitter black strike times are oer,
And that Grabbitt and Co. shall crush Labour no more;
That Australians are first where Australia ...

Henry Lawson

From The Bush

The Channel fog has lifted,
And see where we have come!
Round all the world we've drifted,
A hundred years from "home".
The fields our parents longed for,
Ah! we shall ne'er know how,
The wealth that they were wronged for
We'll see as strangers now!

The Dover cliffs have passed on,
In the morning light aglow,
That our fathers looked their last on
A weary time ago.
Now grin, and grin your bravest!
We need be strong to fight;
For you go home to picture
And I go home to write.

Hold up your head in England,
Tread firm on London streets;
We come from where the strong heart
Of all Australia beats!
Hold up your head in England
However poor you roam!
For no men are your betters
Who never sailed from home!

From ...

Henry Lawson

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

Shearers

No church-bell rings them from the Track,
No pulpit lights their blindness,
Tis hardship, drought and homelessness
That teach those Bushmen kindness:
The mateship born of barren lands,
Of toil and thirst and danger,
The camp-fare for the stranger set,
The first place to the stranger.

They do the best they can to-day,
Take no thought of the morrow;
Their way is not the old-world way,
They live to lend and borrow.
When shearings done and cheques gone wrong,
They call it time to slither,
They saddle up and say So-long!
And ride, the Lord knows whither.

And though he may be brown or black,
Or wrong man there or right man,
The mate thats honest to his mates
They call that man a white man!
They tramp in mateship side by side,...

Henry Lawson

As Good As New

Oh, this is a song of the old lights, that came to my heart like a hymn;
And this is a song for the old lights, the lights that we thought grew dim,
That came to my heart to comfort me, and I pass it along to you;
And here is a hand to the good old friend who turns up as good as new.

And this is a song for the camp-fire out west where the stars shine bright,
Oh, this is a song for the camp-fire where the old mates yarn to-night;
Where the old mates yarn of the old days, and their numbers are all too few,
And this is a song for the good old times that will turn up as good as new.

Oh, this is a song for the old foe, we have both grown wiser now,
And this is a song for the old foe, and were sorry we had that row;
And this is a song for the old love, the love that we thought untru...

Henry Lawson

The Shearers

No church-bell rings them from the Track,
No pulpit lights their blindness,
Tis hardship, drought and homelessness
That teach those Bushmen kindness:
The mateship born of barren lands,
Of toil and thirst and danger,
The camp-fare for the stranger set,
The first place to the stranger.

They do the best they can to-day,
Take no thought of the morrow;
Their way is not the old-world way,
They live to lend and borrow.
When shearings done and cheques gone wrong,
They call it time to slither,
They saddle up and say So-long!
And ride, the Lord knows whither.

And though he may be brown or black,
Or wrong man there or right man,
The mate thats honest to his mates
They call that man a white man!
They tramp in mateship side by side,...

Henry Lawson