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Collected Poetry

EL MAHDI TO THE AUSTRALIAN TROOPS

And wherefore have they come, this warlike band,
That o'er the ocean many a weary day
That o'er the ocean many a weary day
Have tossed; and now beside Suakim's Bay,
With faces stern and resolute, do stand,
Waking the desert's echoes with the drum--
Men of Australia, wherefore have ye come?

To keep the Puppet Khedive on the throne,
To strike a blow for tyranny and wrong,
To crush the weak and aid the oppressing strong!
Regardless of the hapless Fellah's moan,
Regardless of the hapless Fellah's moan,
To force the payment of the Hebrew loan,
Squeezing the tax like blood from out the stone?

And fair Australia, freest of the free,
Is up in arms against the freeman's fight;
And with her mother joined to crush the right--
Has left her threatened treasures o'er the sea,
Has left her land of liberty and law
To flesh her maiden sword in this unholy war.

Enough! God never blessed such enterprise--
England's degenerate Generals yet shall rue
Brave Gordon sacrificed, when soon they view
The children of a thousand deserts rise
To drive them forth like sand before the gale--
God and the Prophet! Freedom will prevail.

The Bulletin, 28 February 1885

THE BUSHFIRE
An Allegory

'Twas on the famous Empire run,
Whose sun does never set,
Whose grass and water, so they say,
Have never failed them yet--
They carry many million sheep,
Through seasons dry and wet.

They call the homestead Albion House,
And then, along with that,
There's Welshman's Gully, Scotchman's Hill,
And Paddymelon Flat:
And all these places are renowned
For making jumbucks fat.

And the out-paddocks--holy frost!
There wouldn't be no sense
For me to try and tell you half
They really are immense;
A man might ride for days and weeks
And never strike a fence.

But still for years they never had
Been known a sheep to lose;
Old Billy Gladstone managed it,
And you can bet your shoes
He'd scores of supers under him,
And droves of jackaroos.

Old Billy had an eagle eye,
And kept his wits about--
If any chaps got trespassing
He quickly cleared 'em out;
And coves that used to "work a cross",
They hated him, no doubt.

But still he managed it in style,
Until the times got dry,
And Billy gave the supers word
To see and mind their eye--
"If any paddocks gets a-fire
I'll know the reason why."

Now on this point old Bill was sure,
Because, for many a year,
Whenever times got dry at all,
As sure as you are here,
The Paddymelon Flat got burnt,
Which Bill thought rather queer.

He sent his smartest supers there
To try and keep things right.
No use! The grass was always dry--
They'd go to sleep at night,
And when they woke they'd go and find
The whole concern alight.

One morning it was very hot--
The sun rose in a haze;
Old Bill was cutting down some trees
(One of his little ways);
A black boy came hot-foot to say
The Flat was in a blaze.

Old Bill he swears a fearful oath
And lets the tommy fall
Says he: "I'll take this business up,
And fix it once for all;
If this goes on the cursed run
Will send us to the wall."

So he withdrew his trespass suits,
He'd one with Dutchy's boss--
In prosecutions criminal
He entered nolle pros.,
But these were neither here nor there--
They always meant a loss.

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Collected Poetry