El Mahdi to the Australian Troops
And wherefore have they come, this warlike band,
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,
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.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Related quotes
Song for Australia
There is a land where summer skies
Are gleaming with a thousand dyes
Blending in witching harmonies,
in harmonies;
and grassy knoll and forest height,
are flushing in the rosy light,
And all above is azure bright -
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where honey flows
Where laughing corn luxuriant grows;
Land of the myrtle and the rose,
land of the rose.
On hill and plain the clustering vine
Is gushing out with purple wine,
And cups are quaffed to thee and thine -
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where treasures shine
Deep in the dark unfathomed mine
For worshippers at Mammon's Shrine;
Where gold lies hid, and rubies glean,
And fable wealth no more doth seem
The idle fancy of a dream
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where homesteads peep
From sunny plain and woodland steep
And love and joy bright vigils keep;
Where the glad voice of childish glee
Is mingling with the melody
Of nature's hidden minstelsy
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where floating free,
From mountain top to girdling sea,
A proud flag waves exultingly, exultingly
And freedom's sons the banner bear,
No shackled slave can breathe the air;
Fairest of Britain's daughter fair
Australia, Australia, Australia.
poem by Caroline Carleton
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Waratah and Wattle
Though poor and in trouble I wander alone,
With rebel cockade in my hat,
Though friends may desert me, and kindred disown,
My country will never do that!
You may sing of the Shamrock, the Thistle, the rose,
Or the three in a bunch, if you will;
But I know of a country that gathered all those,
And I love the great land where the Waratah grows.
And the Wattle-bough blooms on the hill.
Australia! Australia! so fair to behold-
While the blue sky is arching above;
The stranger should never have need to be told,
That the Wattle-bloom means that her heart is of gold.
And the Waratah's red with her love.
Australia! Australia! most beautiful name,
Most kindly and bountiful land;
I would die every death that might save her from shame,
If a black cloud should rise on the stand;
But whatever the quarrel, whoever her foes,
Let them come! Let them come when they will!
Though the struggle be grim, 'tis Australia that knows
That her children shall fight while the Waratah grows,
And the Wattle blooms out on the hill.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Beautiful Land Of Australia
All you on emigration bent,
With home and England discontent,
Come, listen to my sad lament,
All about the bush of Australia.
I once possessed a thousand pounds.
Thinks I—how very grand it sounds
For a man to be farming his own grounds
In the beautiful land of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Upon the voyage the ship was lost.
In wretched plight I reached the coast,
And was very nigh being made a roast,
By the savages of Australia.
And in the bush I lighted on
A fierce bushranger with his gun,
Who borrowed my garments, every one,
For himself in the bush of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Sydney town I reached at last,
And now, thinks I, all danger's past,
And I shall make my fortune fast
In this promising land of Australia.
I quickly went with cash in hand,
Upon the map I chose my land.
When I got there 'twas barren sand
In the beautiful land of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Of sheep I got a famous lot.
Some died of hunger, some of rot,
For the devil a dropp of rain they got,
In this flourishing land of Australia.
My convict men were always drunk,
They kept me in a constant funk.
Says I to myself, as to bed I slunk,
How I wish I was out of Australia!
Booligal, Gobarralong,
Emu Flat and Jugiong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Of ills, enough I've had you'll own.
And then at last, my woes to crown,
One night my log house was blown down
That settled us all in Australia
And now of home and all bereft,
The horrid spot I quickly left,
Making it over by deed of gift
To the savages of Australia.
Booligal, Gobarralong,
Emu Flat and Jugiong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia
I gladly worked my passage home,
And now to England back I've come,
Determined never more to roam,
At least, to the bush of Australia.
And stones upon the road I'll break,
And earn my seven bob a week,
Which is surely better than the freak
Of settling down in Australia.
Currabubula, Bogolong,
Ulladulla, Gerringong.
If you wouldn't become an ourang-outang,
Don't go to the bush of Australia.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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At 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.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Sing Austrailia
I come to Australia as many people do, to see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo.
To hear somebody call me "Mate" and call somebody "Blue,"
to hear an Aborigine play a didgeridoo.
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago,
some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow.
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings,
but all of us come with open hearts to hear Australia sing.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing.
Waltzing Matilda, the men of Gallipoli, Clancy of the Overflow and Crocodile Dundee.
The myth of all creation, the teaching of Baiame, the legends of the Dreamtime for all eternity.
And in this celebration, a brief two hundred years,
the cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears.
And if we stand divided, divided we shall fall. But if we stand together, we shall conquer all.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing..
Sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia.
In the sails on Sydney Harbour I can hear Australia sing.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heart of Australia
When the wars of the world seemed ended, and silent the distant drum,
Ten years ago in Australia, I wrote of a war to come:
And I pictured Australians fighting as their fathers fought of old
For the old things, pride or country, for God or the Devil or gold.
And they lounged on the rim of Australia in the peace that had come to last,
And they laughed at my "cavalry charges" for such things belonged to the past;
Then our wise men smiled with indulgence – ere the swift years proved me right –
Saying: "What shall Australia fight for? And whom shall Australia fight?"
I wrote of the unlocked rivers in the days when my heart was full,
And I pleaded for irrigation where they sacrifice all for wool.
I pictured Australia fighting when the coast had been lost and won –
With arsenals west of the mountains and every spur its gun.
And what shall Australia fight for? The reason may yet be found,
When strange shells scatter the wickets and burst on the football ground.
And "Who shall invade Australia?" let the wisdom of ages say
"The friend of a further future – or the ally of yesterday!"
Aye! What must Australia fight for? In the strife that never shall cease,
She must fight for her work unfinished: she must fight for her life and peace,
For the sins of the older nations. She must fight for her own reward.
She has taken the sword in her blindness and shall live or die by the sword.
But the statesman, the churchman, the scholar still peer through their glasses dim
And they see no cloud on the future as they roost on Australia's rim:
Where the farmer works with the lumpers and the drover drives a dray,
And the shearer on Garden Island is shifting a hill to-day.
Had we used the wealth we have squandered and the land that we kept from the plough,
A prosperous Federal City would be over the mountains now,
With farms that sweep to horizons and gardens where plains lay bare,
And the bulk of the population and the Heart of Australia there.
Had we used the time we have wasted and the gold we have thrown away,
The pick of the world's mechanics would be over the range to-day –
In the Valley of Coal and Iron where the breeze from the bush comes down,
And where thousands of makers of all things should be happy in Factory Town.
They droned on the rim of Australia, the wise men who never could learn;
Our substance we sent to the nations, and their shoddy we bought in return.
In the end, shall our soldiers fight naked, no help for them under the sun –
And never a cartridge to stick in the breech of a Brummagem gun?
With the Wars of the World coming near us the wise men are waking to-day.
Hurry out ammunition from England! Mount guns on the cliffs while you may!
And God pardon our sins as a people if Invasion's unmerciful hand
Should strike at the heart of Australia drought-cramped on the verge of the land.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Queer Ways Of Australia
Dick Briggs, a wealthy farmer’s son,
To England lately took a run,
To see his friends, and have some fun,
For he’d been ten years in Australia.
Arrived in England, off he went
To his native village down in Kent—
’Twas there his father drew his rent,
And many happy days he’d spent.
No splendid, fine clothes on had he,
But jumper’n boots up to the knee,
With dirty Sydney ‘cabbage-tree’—
The costume of Australia.
Chorus:
Now when a fellow takes a run
To England for a bit of fun,
He’s sure to ’stonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.
Now Dick went home in this array;
His sister came out and did say,
‘No, we don’t want anything today,’
To her brother from Australia.
Cried he, ‘Oh, don’t you know poor Dick?’
They recognized him precious quick;
The ‘old man’ hugged him like a brick.
And there was feasting there that night,
For Richard was a welcome sight,
For each one hailed with great delight
The wanderer from Australia.
The blessed cattle on the farm
Regarded Dick with great alarm;
His swearing acted like a charm
When he gave ’em a ‘touch’ of Australia.
He could talk ‘bullock’ and ‘no flies’,
And when he blessed poor Strawberry’s eyes,
She looked at him with great surprise
As out of her he ‘took a rise’.
‘Fie, fie,’ his mother said one day,
‘What naughty, wicked words you say.’
‘Bless you, mother, that’s the way
We wake ’em up in Australia.’
Dick went to London for a spree,
And got drunk there most gloriously;
He gave them a touch of ‘Coo-oo-ee’
The bush cry of Australia.
He took two ladies to the play,
Both so serene, in dresses gay,
He had champagne brought on a tray
And said, ‘Now girls, come fire away.’
They drank till they could drink no more,
And then they both fell on the floor.
Cried Dick, as he surveyed them o’er,
‘You wouldn’t do for Australia!’
poem by Charles Thatcher
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Wide Lies Australia
Wide lies Australia! The seas that surround her
Flow for her unity – all states in one.
Never has Custom nor Tyranny bound her –
Never was conquest so peacefully won.
Fair lies Australia! with all things within her
Meet for a Nation, the greatest to be:
Free to the White Man to woo and to win her:
Those who'd be happy and those who'd be free.
Free to live fully and free to live cleanly,
Free to give learning to daughter and son;
Free to act nobly but not to act meanly,
Free to forget what the old lands had done.
Free to be Brothers! Our hymn and our sermon
To keep for the White World the balance of Power,
Welcoming all, be they British or German,
All come to help us – we'll wait for the hour.
Out in the West where the flood-water gathers –
Out in the drought on the sand desert lone –
Went the brave English and brave foreign fathers
Fearlessly facing the fearful unknown.
Gemmed with their names lies the great past behind us.
Dark lie the storm clouds before us today,
Let us so live the future shall find us
Facing the danger as dauntless as they.
poem by Henry Lawson
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An Australian Paean—1876
The English air is fresh and fair,
The Irish fields are green;
The bright light gleams o’er Scotland’s streams,
And glows her hills between.
The hawthorn is in blossom,
And birds from every bough
Make musical the dewy spring
In April England now.
Our April bears no blossoms,
No promises of spring;
Her gifts are rain and storm and stain,
And surges lash and swing.
No budded wreath doth she bequeath,
Her tempests toss the trees;
No balmy gales—but shivered sails,
And desolated seas.
Yet still we love our April,
For it aids us to bequeath
A gift more fair than blossoms rare,
More sweet than budded wreath.
Our children’s tend’rest memories
Round Austral April grow;
’Twas the month we won their freedom, boys,
Just twenty years ago.
Though Scotland has her forests,
Though Erin has her vales,
Though plentiful her harvests,
In England’s sunny dales;
Yet foul amidst the fairness,
The factory chimneys smoke,
And the murmurs of the many
In their burdened bosoms choke.
We hear the children’s voices
’Mid the rattle of its looms,
Crying, “Wherefore shut God’s heaven
All our golden afternoons?”
Though here the English April
Nor song nor sun imparts,
Its Spring is on our children’s lips,
Its summer in their hearts!
We’ve left the land that bore us,
Its castles and its shrines;
We’ve changed the cornfields and the rye
For the olives and the vines.
Yet still we have our castles,
Yet still we bow the knee;
We each enshrine a saint divine,
And her name is Liberty.
Liberty! name of warning!
Did’st thou feel our pulses beat
As we marching, moved this morning
All adown the cheering street?
In our federated freedom,
In our manliness allied,
While the badges of our labour
Were the banners of our pride.
Did our fancies speak prophetic
Of a larger league than this—
With higher aims and nobler claims
To grasp the good we miss;
When in freer federation
In a future yet to be,
Australia stands a nation
From the centre to the sea.
Cheer for Australia, comrades,
And cheer for Britain, too;
Who loves them both will not be loth
To give each land its due.
So cheer for Britain, comrades;
Our fathers loved the soil,
And the grandeur of her greatness
Is the measure of their toil.
But never let our sons forget,
Till mem’ry’s self be dead,
If Britain gave us birth, my lads,
Australia gave us bread!
Then cheer for young Australia,
The empire of the Free,
Where yet a Greater Britain
The Southern Cross shall see!
poem by Marcus Clarke
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Stand Fast!
Stand fast, Great Britain!
Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand
One in the faith that makes a mighty land,
True to the bond you gave and will not break
And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake!
Against the Giant Robber clad in steel,
With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel,
Striding through France to strike you down at last,
Britain, stand fast !
Stand fast, brave land!
The Huns are thundering toward the citadel;
They prate of Culture but their path is Hell;
Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword
They wield and worship is their only Lord.
O land where reason stands secure on right,
O land where freedom is the source of light,
Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast,
Britain, stand fast!
Stand fast, dear land!
Thou island mother of a world-wide race,
Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face,
Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife,
Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life;
Fight on until the Teuton madness cease;
Fight bravely on, until the word of peace
Is spoken in the English tongue at last,
Britain, stand fast!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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National Anniversay Ode
Ho! for the day in the whole year the brightest!
Long may it live in the heart of the nation!
Long may it be ere the names are forgotten
That boldly were signed to the grand declaration!
Shout, sons of liberty! shout for the one land free
Under the sun!
On this thrice blessèd day its bonds were struck away,
Its thongs undone!
Ho! for our banner, the emblem of freedom!
What can arouse a true hero's devotion-
What like the Stars and Stripes, floating above us?
Queen of all lands, and the peer of the ocean.
Oh! it is fair to see, oh! it is dear to me,
Flag of the brave!
Time's wheel shall cease to move, true hearts shall cease to love,
Ere it cease to wave.
But there's a blemish now staining our banner!
The bright stars are dimmed, and the fair stripes are spotted,
With the tears of the drunkard's wife, mother, and children,
With hot tears of shame is our flag blurred and blotted.
Victims of tyranny, strike till our land is free
From King Alcohol;
Strike down his whelps of sin, rum, brandy, beer, and gin
Strangle them all.
Up to the contest, and wipe out this blemish!
Columbia's son, and Columbia's daughter,
God speed the day when the one 'Land of Freedom'
Shall add to its title the 'Land of Cold Water'!
Three cheers for Columbia, and this, her natal day!
God bless the right,
And guard from a traitor's hand, this our beloved land,
And the Red, Blue, and White!
July 4th, 1871.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Freedom on the Wallaby
Australia's a big country
An' Freedom's humping bluey,
An' 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 goin' 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 their native land
In spite of their devotion,
An' so they came, or if they stole,
Were sent across the ocean.
Then Freedom couldn't stand the glare
O' Royalty's regalia,
She left the loafers where they were,
An' came 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 toil'd to make a home –
Hard grubbin 'twas an' clearin' –
They wasn't crowded much with lords
When they was pioneering.
But now that we have made the land
A garden full of promise,
Old Greed must crook 'is dirty hand
And 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!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Australia's Peril
We must suffer, husband and father, we must suffer, daughter and son,
For the wrong we have taken part in and the wrong that we have seen done.
Let the bride of frivolous fashion, and of ease, be ashamed and dumb,
For I tell you the nations shall rule us who have let their children come!
How shall Australia escape it – we in the South and alone
Who have taken the sword for no right of England and none of our own?
(Can we bring back the husbands and fathers, can we bring the lovers and sons?
From the Dead to the homes we have ruined with the fire of our murdering guns?)
Who shall aid and protect us when the blood-streaked dawn we meet?
Will England, the hated of nations, whose existence depends on her fleet?
Who, because of the deer-parks and game-runs where her wheat-fields and pastures should be,
Must bring food for her herded thousands and shepherd it over the sea?
The beak of the British Octopus, or the Bosses within our reach
Who spend the hot days on the Mountains or summer at Manly Beach!
The thousands of paltry swindlers who are fathoms beneath our scorn –
Or the army of brave sons grown from the children who should have been born!
The wealth you have won has been wasted on trips to the English Rome,
On costly costumes from Paris, and titles and gewgaws from "home".
Shall a knighthood frighten Asia when she comes with the hate of hell?
Will the motor-launch race the torpedo, or the motor-car outspeed the shell?
Keep the wealth you have won from the cities, spend the wealth you have won on the land,
Save the floods that run into the ocean – save the floods that sink into the sand!
Make farms fit to live on, build workshops and technical schools for your sons;
Keep the wealth of the land in Australia – make your own cloth, machines, and guns!
Clear out the Calico Jimmy, the nigger, the Chow, and his pals;
Be your foreword for years: Irrigation. Make a network of lakes and canals!
See that your daughters have children, and see that Australia is home,
And so be prepared, a strong nation, for the storm that most surely must come.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Ocean Land
Before eyes that are blind no more
A sight unseen that tears the soul
All we ever loved and known
Into mass graves is what we're shown"
"We see an ocean once was land"
& So they come to understand
This place where man used to be born
Will be man's water throne
"All that was magical, beautiful,
will be gone"
These measures call for divine intervention
"All the achievements of man,
one will stand all alone"
One that survives the final selection
"The sand in the hour glass,
moves so fast, slow the sand
And nothing that mankind has strived for
will be left in ocean land"
The rain will fall then
Filling the dried land
"Here are we, servants three
flesh and blood
Poor and weak,
hear thou speak of the flood"
It must be a sign
A message from God's hand
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fighting Hard
Rolling out to fight for England, singing songs across the sea;
Rolling North to fight for England, and to fight for you and me.
Fighting hard for France and England, where the storms of Death are hurled;
Fighting hard for Australasia and the honour of the World!
Fighting hard.
Fighting hard for Sunny Queensland—fighting for Bananaland,
Fighting hard for West Australia, and the mulga and the sand;
Fighting hard for Plain and Wool-Track, and the haze of western heat—
Fighting hard for South Australia and the bronze of Farrar’s Wheat!
Fighting hard.
Fighting hard for fair Victoria, and the mountain and the glen;
(And the Memory of Eureka—there were other tyrants then),
For the glorious Gippsland forests and the World’s great Singing Star—
For the irrigation channels where the cabbage gardens are—
Fighting hard.
Fighting hard for gale and earthquake, and the wind-swept ports between;
For the wild flax and manuka and the terraced hills of green.
Fighting hard for wooden homesteads, where the mighty kauris stand—
Fighting hard for fern and tussock!—Fighting hard for Maoriland!
Fighting hard.
Fighting hard for little Tassy, where the apple orchards grow;
(And the Northern Territory just to give the place a show),
Fighting hard for Home and Empire, while the Commonwealth prevails—
And, in spite of all her blunders, dying hard for New South Wales.
Dying hard.
Fighting for the Pride of Old Folk, and the people that you know;
And the girl you left behind you—(ah! the time is passing slow).
For the proud tears of a sister! come you back, or never come!
And the weary Elder Brother, looking after things at home—
Fighting Hard!
You Lucky Devils
!
Fighting hard.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Song Of An Emigrant
Far away! O far away,
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam.
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Far away! O far away!
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
And running on to destruction sure,
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! A last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Far away! O far away!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread is plenty, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and deserts drear,
And boundless fields of another sphere.
Our sails are set, and the breezes swell,
England, Our country--Farewell! Farewell!
poem by Charles Mackay
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Sing Australia
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the john denver collection - calypso and the gift you are album
I come to australia as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
To hear somebody call me mate and call somebody blue
To hear the aboriginee play a didgeridoo
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago
Some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings
But all of us come with open hearts to hear australia sing
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Waltzing matilda, the men of galipoli
Clancy of the overflow, crocodile dundee
The myth of all creation, the teaching of baiame
The legends of a dreamtime for all eternity
And in this celebration of a brief two hundred years
The cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears
And if we stand divided, divided we will fall
But if we stand together we shall conquer all
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Sing australia, sing australia, sing australia, sing australia
In the sails on sydney harbour
I can hear australia sing
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Southern Mother's Charge
You go, my son, to the battle-field
To repel the invading foe;
'Mid its fiercest conflicts never yield
Till death shall lay you low.
Our God, who smiles upon the Right,
And frowns upon the Wrong,
Will nerve you for our holy fight,
And make your courage strong.
Our cause is just. For it we pray
At morning, noon and night;
Upon our banners we inscribe
God, Liberty and Right.
I love you as my life,
My dear beloved son;
Your country calls-go forth and fight
Till Freedom's cause is won.
It may be that you fall in death,
Contending for your home,
Yet your aged mother will not be
Forsaken, though alone.
A thousand generous hearts there are
Throughout this sunny land,
Whose ample fortunes will be spent
With an unsparing hand.
Now go, my son; a mother's prayers
Will ever follow thee;
And in the thickest of the fight
Strike home for liberty.
On every hill, in every glen,
We'll fight till we are free-
We'll fight till every limpid brook
Runs crimson to the sea.
No truce we know, till every foe
Shall leave our hallowed sod,
And we regain that Heaven born boon-
'Freedom to worship God.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Australia
Opportunities are available in all walks of life in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia, the chance of a lifetime
Australia, you get what you work for
Nobody has to be any better than what they want to be
Australia, no class distinction
Australia, no drug addiction
Nobodys got a chip on their shoulder
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
No one hesitates at life or beats around the bush in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone walks around with a perpetual smile across their face
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone gets around and nobody can ever get you down
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Liberty
The day in which one celebrates, Independence of a union of states,
Independence from powers outside; freedom that was once denied,
The freest nation in this world, a point that others sometimes herald,
Causing many who are weary in heart, to come here for a fresh start.
A day of real joyous celebration, all across this now powerful nation,
As our voices together are raised, with full hearts a nation is praised,
Festive fireworks are always planned, in many cities across this land,
Celebrating what many of us see, as the greatest nation in all history.
Liberty we celebrate by proclamation, extends to all within this nation,
However that liberty extends only, to the borders of this dear country,
Beyond the borders and the sea, the nation’s people may not be free,
When many travel to other lands, freedoms turn into other’s demands.
Demands which turn into bondage, leaving this land of great privilege,
Privileges that others only dream of, as they look to this land we love,
A land that is so blessed by God, many agree, on this day with a nod,
But, forgetting Him most of the year; living so privileged, without fear.
There’s a freedom many don’t know, as their freedoms for them grow,
Liberty, from the bondage of sin, that captivates our land from within,
That freedom which we celebrate, doesn’t free men from Satan’s hate,
As the Devil leads a war against God, all across this land that we trod.
Freedom from such an evil foe, comes only when the Savior we know,
Who left all the Glory of Eternity, coming to earth to set captives free,
The only true freedom on this earth, comes to man, by a spiritual birth,
Through the Liberty in Jesus Christ, when in Him they receive New Life.
(Copyright ©07/2008)