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More Famous Poetry by Henry Lawson

All poems within this chapter are by Henry Lawson.

A Backward Glance

It is well when you've lived in clover,
To mourn for the days gone by,
Would I live the same life over
Could I live again? Not I!
But, knowing the false from the real, I would strive to ascend:
I would seek out my boyhood's ideal,
And follow it to the end.

A Derry On A Cove

'Twas in the felon's dock he stood, his eyes were black and blue;
His voice with grief was broken, and his nose was broken, too;
He muttered, as that broken nose he wiped upon his cap,
'It's orfal when the p'leece has got a derry on a chap.

'I am a honest workin' cove, as any bloke can see,
'It's just because the p'leece has got a derry, sir, on me;
'Oh, yes, the legal gents can grin, I say it ain't no joke,
'It's cruel when the p'leece has got a derry on a bloke!'

'Why don't you go to work?' he said (he muttered, 'Why don't you?').
'Yer honer knows as well as me there ain't no work to do.
'And when I try to find a job I'm shaddered by a trap,
'It's awful when the p'leece has got a derry on a chap!

I sigh'd and shed a tearlet for that noble nature marred,
But, ah! the Bench was rough on him, and gave him six months' hard.
He only said, 'Beyond the grave you'll cop it hot, by Jove!
'There ain't no angel p'leece to get a derry on a cove!

A Mate Can Do No Wrong

We learnt the creed at Hungerford,
We learnt the creed at Bourke;
We learnt it in the good times
And learnt it out of work.
We learnt it by the harbour-side
And on the billabong:
"No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!"

He's like a king in this respect
(No matter what they do),
And, king-like, shares in storm and shine
The Throne of Life with you.
We learnt it when we were in gaol
And put it in a song:
"No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!"
They'll say he said a bitter word
When he's away or dead.
We're loyal to his memory,
No matter what he said.
And we should never hesitate,
But strike out good and strong,
And jolt the slanderer on the jaw,
A mate can do no wrong!

As Far As Your Rifles Cover

Do you think, you slaves of a thousand years to poverty, wealth and pride,
You can crush the spirit that has been free in a land that's new and wide?
When you've scattered the last of the farmer bands, and the war for a while is over,
You will hold the land, ay, you'll hold the land, the land that your rifles cover.

Till your gold has leveled each mountain range where a wounded man can hide,
Till your gold has lighted the moonless night on the plains where the rebels ride;
Till the future is proved, and the past is bribed from the son of the land's dead lover,
You may hold the land, you may hold the land just as far as your rifles cover.

As It Was In The Beginning

As it was in the beginning, so we'll find it in the end,
For a lover, or a brother, or a sweetheart, or a friend;
As it was in the beginning, so we'll find it by-and-bye,
When weak women hug their babies, and strong men go out to die.

As 'tis written now, or spoken, so we'll find it yet in deed,
For their State, or for their Country, for their Honour or their Creed;
For the love of Right, or hatred for the Everlasting Lie,
When the women think of some things, and strong men go out to die.

As it used to be in past times, in the future so it must,
We shall find him stretching forward with his face down in the dust,
All his wounds in front, and hidden, blood to earth, and back to sky,
When pale women pray in private, and strong men go out to die.

Rebels all we are, and brothers, rebels to the laws we make,
Rich or poor, or fat or lean man, fighting for another's sake;
It is all as God decreed it, we shall find it by-and-bye,
When our girls, disguised in boys' clothes, go to die where strong men die.

Before We Were Married

Blacksoil plains were grey soil, grey soil in the drought.
Fifteen years away, and five hundred miles out;
Swag and bag and billy carried all our care Before we were married, and I wish that I were there.

River banks were grassy, grassy in the bends,
Running through the land where mateship never ends;
We belled the lazy fishing lines and droned the time away
Before we were married, and I wish it were today.

Working down the telegraph, winters' gales and rains
Cross the tumbled scenery of Marlborough "plains",
Beach and bluff and cook's tent, and the cook was a
"cow"
Before we were married, but I wish that it was now.

The rolling road to Melbourne, and grey-eyed girl in fur,
One arm to a stanchion, and one round her;
Seat abaft the skylight when the moon had set,
Before she was married, and I wish it wasn't yet.

Bonnie New South Wales

It surely cannot be too soon, and never is too late,
It tones with all Australia's tune to praise one's native State,
And so I bring an old refrain from days of posts and rails,
And lift the good old words again, for Sunny New South Wales.

She bore me on her tented fields, and wore my youth away,
And little gold of all she yields repays my toil to-day;
By track and camp and bushman's hut, by streets where courage fails,
I've sung for all Australia, but my heart's in New South Wales.

The waratah and wattle there in all their glory grow,
And if they bloom on hills elsewhere, I'm not supposed to know,
The tales that other States may tell, I never hear the tales!
For I, her son, have sinned as well as Bonnie New South Wales.

I only know her heart is good to sweetheart and to mate,
And pregnant with our nationhood from Sunset to the Gate;
I only know her sons sail home on every ship that sails,
Though round the world ten times they roam from dear old New South Wales.

Every Man Should Have A Ride

So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb,
Seeing visions "over yonder" of the war I know must come.
In the corner, not a vision, but a sign for coming days
Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize.
And in this, the living present, let the word go through the land,
Every tradesman, clerk and peasant should have these two things at hand.

No, no ranting song is needed, and no meeting, flag or fuss,
In the future, still unheeded, shall the spirit come to us!
Without feathers, drum or riot on the day that is to be,
We shall march down, very quiet, to our stations by the sea.
While the bitter parties stifle every voice that warns of war,
Every man should own a rifle and have cartridges in store!

Everyone's Friend

"Nobody's enemy save his own",
(What shall it be in the end?),
Still by the nickname he is known,
"Everyone's Friend."
"Nobody's Enemy" stands alone
While he has money to lend,
"Nobody's Enemy" holds his own,
"Everyone's Friend"

"Nobody's Enemy" down and out,
Game to the end,
And he mostly dies with no one about,
"Everyone's Friend."

The Beating Of A Drum

Fear ye not the stormy future, for the Battle Hymn is strong,
And the armies of Australia shall not march without a song;
The glorious words and music of Australia's song shall come
When her true hearts rush together at the beating of a drum.

We may not be there to hear it, 'twill be written in the night,
And Australia's foes shall fear it in the hour before the fight.
The glorious words and music from a lonely heart shall come
When our sons shall rush to danger at the beating of the drum.

He shall be unknown who writes it; he shall soon forgotten be,
But the song shall ring through ages as a song of liberty.
And I say the words and music of our battle hymn shall come,
When Australia wakes in anger at the beating of a drum.