In a colony constituted like that of New South Wales, the proportion of crime must of course be great.

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In this eventful period the colony of New South Wales is already far advanced.

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PARTY AT THE LEPER COLONY

Finger food and an ice cold keg
It won't cost you an arm and a leg
Dance all night to a rotten band
Come on, people, let's give 'em a hand
Saturday night it's the place to be
Everybody cut footloose with me
At the party at the leper colony
Oh, there's a party at the leper colony
Met a little lady so pretty and young
She was quite a talker till the cat got her tongue
She oozed up beside me, I turned on my charm
Well, pretty soon she was completely disarmed
I said, "Girl, now don't fall to pieces on me"
But she cried her eyes out . literally
At the party at the leper colony
Oh, there's a party at the leper colony
Hey! Hey!
Hey now, buddy, don't you give me no lip
Sorry I was using your head for a dip
There's a guy in the hot tub, I don't know who
Wait a minute, it looks like Stu
Well, hold the phone now, what do I see?
Another pretty mama got her eye on me
At the party at the leper colony
Oh, there's a party at the leper colony
There's a party at the leper colony
(Party at the leper colony)
There's a party at the leper colony
(Party at the leper colony)
Oh, there's a party at the leper colony, yeah, party at the leper colony
Well, there's a party at the lepr colony
(Party at the leper colony)
Hey!

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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.

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The consequences of a crime should not be out of proportion to the crime itself.

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It is to be feared that those who emigrate to New South Wales, generally anticipate too great facility in their future operations and certainty of success in conducting them; but they should recollect that competency cannot be obtained without labour.

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Wales was in ancient times divided into three parts nearly equal, consideration having been paid, in this division, more to the value than to the just quantity or proportion of territory.

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Welcome to the Prince of Wales

Lines written when the Prince of Wales
was about embarking for Canada, May, 1860.

In his long voyage o'er the sea,
To where doth grow the maple tree,
May he be blest with pleasant gales-
The coming man, the Prince of Wales.

The Maple grows but in good soil,
Where nature doth reward for toil.
The farmer, splitting his fence rails,
He welcome bids the Prince of Wales.

In the woods the axe is ringing,
And the yeoman merry singing ;
The song resounds o'er hills and dales -
Our future king, the Prince of Wales.
'Round the brow of our future chief
We'll weave a wreath of maple leaf,
For o'er broad Canada prevails
Kind feelings to the Prince of Wales.

When in this land the Prince arrives
May he have many pleasant drives,
And on our lakes have merry sails-
Great king of princes, Prince of Wales.

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Sunny New South Wales

We often hear men boast about the land which gave them birth,
And each one thinks his native land the fairest spot on earth;
In beauty, riches, power, no land can his surpass;
To his, all other lands on earth cannot even hold a glass.
Now, if other people have their boasts, then, say, why should not we,
For we can drink our jovial toast and sing with three times three;
For there's not a country in the world where all that's fair prevails
As here it does in this our land, our sunny New South Wales.

Chorus

Then toast with me our happy land,
Where all that's fair prevails,
Our colour's blue and our hearts are true,
In sunny New South Wales.

Now let us take a passing glance at all that we possess.
That ours is such a wealthy land no stranger e'er would guess.
Why, we've land in store, indeed far more than ever we shall require,
And trees grow thick on every side in spite of axe and fire.
Our sheep and cattle millions count, our wool is classed A1;
In beef and mutton our fair land is not to be outdone.
Why, we've lately seen old England, who boasts her stock ne'er fails,
Has had to send for wholsome meat preserved in New South Wales.

Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.

In childhood California was to us a land of gold,
And people said its riches were so vast, immense, untold.
But time has proved that mineral wealth exists not there alone,
For New South Wales possesses gold in many, many a stone.
And when the gold is taken from out its quartzy veins
A heap of silver, copper, tin, as a residue remains.
In fact we are a mass of wealth in all our hills and dales.
There's not a country half as rich as sunny New South Wales.

Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.

Our climate's good, that all admit, our flowers are sweet and rare;
And scenes abound on every hand so marvellously fair.
Shame on the men who went away and of us wrote such lies.
Why, when Anthony Trollope came out here he nearly lost his eyes.
Our native girls are fair and good, their hearts are pure and true;
And to their colour stick like bricks, the bright Australian blue.
Some never loved a roving life, nor blest the ocean's gales;
But they bless the breeze that blew them to a life in New South Wales.

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Love is conditioned

Love for one is in proportion
To the influence you wield.
Concern for one is in proportion
To the identity you have.
Respect for one is in proportion
To the trust you have.
Don’t expect more than the due.
16.08.2006

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Who knows but that England may revive in New South Wales when it has sunk in Europe.

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Nothing escapes the vigilance of the New South Wales police; their reputation is known the world over.

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Chinese Immigration

You doubtless read the papers,
And as men of observation,
Of course you watch the progress
Of Chinese immigration--
For thousands of these pigtail chaps
In Adelaide are landing;
And why they let such numbers come
Exceeds my understanding.

On Emerald Hill it now appears
A Joss House they've erected;
And they've got an ugly idol there--
It's just what I expected;
And they offer nice young chickens
Unto this wooden log;
And sometimes with a sucking pig
They go the entire hog.

Now some of you, perhaps, may laugh,
But 'tis my firm opinion,
This colony some day will be
Under Chinese dominion.
They'll upset the Australian government,
The place will be their own;
And an Emperor with a long pigtail,
Will sit upon the throne.

Melbourne will be the seat of power,
And then 'tis my impression,
Of the stations up the country
They'll quickly take possession.
The squatters will be used as slaves,
By the Celestial nation;
And growing tea or rice will be
Their only compensation.

The mandarins will seize for wives
The fair Australian girls;
And from Melbourne to the diggings
They'll cut lots of canals.
And for fear the coves of New South Wales
Should pay a hostile call;
Between this colony and that
No doubt they'll build a wall.

The customs of their country
Of course will then prevail;
And every English slave will have
To wear a long pigtail.
We'll all of us be fed on rice,
As true as I'm a sinner;
And 'stead of spoons we'll have to use
Those chopsticks for our dinner.

This picture, perhaps, is overdrawn;
But, however, who can say,
That all these things will not take place,
If we let them have their way.
If it comes to pass, these English songs
Away I'll quick be flinging,
And learn their language; and come out
In Chinese comic singing.

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In the Steven F. Austin Colony, which was the first colony, Texans first established a provisional government in 1835 with the intention of writing a declaration of independence soon after.

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The year 1826 was remarkable for the commencement of one of those fearful droughts to which we have reason to believe the climate of New South Wales is periodically subject.

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The staple of our Australian colonies, but more particularly of New South Wales, the climate and the soil of which are peculiarly suited to its production, - is fine wool.

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One of the greatest objections which families have to New South Wales, is their apprehension of the moral effects that are likely to overwhelm them by bad example, and for which no success in life could compensate.

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A Train Journey

We left old Melbourne City in the darkness
And the northbound train stopped at each rural town
And a gray dawn broke as we neared outer Sydney
This Land now green has often been so brown.

Beyond Gosford the scenery was changing
We passed by coastal paddocks wide and green
This Land can be compared to a chameleon
It changes it's colours where the rains have been.

Through Wauchope and Nambucca Heads places of beauty
And as we neared Grafton it commenced to rain
To New South Wales on the first of September
The spring has brought it's greenery again.

Before we reached Casino night had fallen
It was a long day's journey into night
On through Lismore, Mullumbimby and through the cane country
Of Murwillumbah in the faint moonlight.

On to the last stop Murwillumbah station
And the memory with me will long remain
Of that train journey on the first of September
Through New South Wales made green by recent rain.

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Windchime Row

A fishing colony by the sea, just beside the beach.
A little street and left and right, five shanties each,
and two more on the right hand side, they're abandoned though,
the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row.

Whenever I happen to be walking down that lane,
I almost never; fail to hear; every now and then,
the wind playing poet with the windchimes, and with many a gentle touch,
composing so many wordless rhymes that speak just as much,

as if a thousand songs were sung, but you have to have the ear,
and the belief in your heart , only then you can hear,
the poetry in the gusts of salty sea breeze, as they come and go,
in the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row.

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The Dauntless Three

Chris Watson, of the Parliament,
By his Caucus Gods he swore
That the great Labor Party
Should suffer wrong no more.
By his Caucus Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his Socialists ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.
East and west and south and north
The Socialists ride fast,
And every town in New South Wales
Has heard their trumpet's blast.
Shame to the false elector
Who lingers in his hole,
While Watson and his myrmidons
Are riding to the poll.

Then up spake brave Horatius Gould,
And a Liberal proud was he,
"Now, who will stand on either hand
And face the foe with me?"
Then out spake bold Herminius Millen,
And Walker out spake he,
"We will abide on either side
And win a seat with thee."

"'Tis well", quoth brave Horatuis,
"As thou sayest, so let it be."
And straight against the proletaire
Forth went the dauntless three.

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I hated the lost colony; in second grade, we were doing American History, and they said, We don't know what happened to them. That drove me nuts. That lost colony drove me crazy.

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