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Post by NFA on May 16, 2020 2:57:00 GMT 8
Freedom on the Wallaby.
(Written for the “Worker.”)
Australia’s a big country, An’ Freedom’s humping bluey, And 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 going 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 that native land, In spite of their devotion, An’ so they come, or if they stole, Were sent across the ocean.
Then Freedom couldn’t stand the glare Of Royalty’s regalia. She left the loafers where they were An’ come out to Australia. But now across the mighty main The chains have come ter bind her, She little thought to see again The wrongs she left behind her.
Our parents toiled to make a home, Hard grubbin’ ’twas and clearin’, They wasn’t crowded much with lords When they was pioneerin’. But now that we have made the land A garden full of promise. Old Greed must crook ’is dirty hand An’ come ter take it from us.
So we must fly a rebel flag, As others did before us, And we must sing a rebel song And join in rebel chorus. We’ll make the tyrants feel the sting O’ those that they would throttle; They needn’t say the fault is ours, If blood should stain the wattle.
Henry Lawson. Brisbane, May, 1891.
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Post by NFA on Sept 25, 2023 19:12:40 GMT 8
An obvious rabble rouser.
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