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Index of First Lines


Are you the Cove?” he spoke the words
A famous dog once came to town
A sergeant and three constables set out from Mansfield town
Across the stony ridges,
Ah me! How clearly they come back –
Australia, dear land of my childhood and birth,
Australia’s a big country
By the sluggish river Gwydir lived a hungry red-backed spider,
Come all Australian sons with me
Come, Stumpy, old man, we must shift while we can;
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan
Did you see them pass to-day, Billy, Kate and Robin,
Do you remember the summer of ’63
He called for me when going home just on the tick of eight
He had come to Numeralla, in the drought of ’98
He was as dry as Georgie’s poodle and was quickly growing worse,
Hold hard, Ned! Lift me down once more, and lay me in the shade.
Hurrah for the Lachlan, boys, and join me in a cheer
I camped one night in an empty hut on the side of a lonely hill.
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
I’m traveling down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand
I’m traveling down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand
I’m used to punching bullock teams across the hills and plains,
In Dublin town I was brought up, in that city of great fame —
‘Tis of a wild Colonial boy, Jack Doolan was his name,
’Come all you Lachlan men, and a sorrowful tale I’ll tell,
It chanced out back at the Christmas time
It was In the Queensland drought;
It was somewhere up the country in a land of rock and scrub,
It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
My name is Bob the swagman, before you all I stand,
My shearing days are over, though I never was a gun
Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought
Now the tent poles are rotting, the camp fires are dead,
Oh! Paddy dear and did you hear, the news that’s going round,
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in a Billabong,
Oh, the dogs once held a concert,
Old Bill the shearer had been ‘phoned
On Monday we’ve mutton with damper and tea
On the Castlereagh some years ago
Our fathers came to search for gold
Queensland thou art a land of pests
Ten miles down Reedy River
The “Big Gun” toiled, with his heart
The bishop sat in lordly state and purple cap sublime,
The horse and mule live 30 years
The new chum leaned against the bar
The sun burns hotly thro’ the gums
The sunburnt bloodystockman stood
The weather has been warm for a fortnight now or more,
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
There’s a man that went out in the floodtime and drought,
There’s a lonely grave half hidden where the blue-grass droops above,
‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
We had many problems set us when Coolgardie was a camp,
When the kindly hours of darkness, save for light of moon and star,
Ye sons of Australia forget not your braves,
You can talk of your whiskey and talk of your beer,
You hear a lot of new-chum talk