Poison with the falling dews, Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone. There no mother's eye is near them, There no mother's ear can hear them; Never, when the torturing lash Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone, Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone. From the cool spring where they drank, Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank,- And the holy counsels there, . Gone, gone,-sold and gone, Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone. Toiling through the weary day, And at night the spoilers prey. O that they had earlier died, Gone, gone,- sold and gone, Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone. By the holy love he beareth,- Gone, gone,- sold and gone, AN ABORIGINAL MOTHER'S LAMENT BY CHARLES HARPUR Still farther would I fly, my child, With his dread hand murder-wet! O moan not! I would give this braid - But for a single palmful Ah! spring not to his name To glad us may he come He is smoldering into ashes Beneath the blasted gum: no more All charred and blasted by the fire And but for thee, I would their fire Hark! Hark! I hear his death-cry Yet lengthening up the blast! But no when his bound hands had signed The way that we should fly, On the roaring pyre flung bleeding - No more shall his loud tomahawk O moan not! I would give this braid - For but a single palmful Of water now for thee. HOW'S MY BOY? BY SIDNEY DOBELL "Ho, Sailor of the sea! How's my boy-my boy?" "What's your boy's name, good wife, And in what good ship sail'd he?" "My boy John – He that went to sea What care I for the ship, sailor? My boy's my boy to me. You come back from sea, I might as well have ask'd some landsman Yonder down in the town. There's not an ass in all the parish But he knows my John. "How's my boy - my boy? And unless you let me know I'll swear you are no sailor, Brass buttons or no, sailor, Sure his ship was the 'Jolly Briton دو "And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy John? If I was loud as I am proud I'd sing him over the town! Why should I speak low, sailor?" "That good ship went down." "How's my boy-my boy? What care I for the ship, sailor? Be she afloat or be she aground, I say how's my John?" Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her." |