Read "The Ballad of Mabel Clare" by Henry Lawson online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Ye children of the Land of Gold, / I sing a song to you, / And if the jokes are somewhat old, / The main idea's new. / So be it sung, by hut and tent, / Where tall the native grows; / And understand, the song is meant / For singing through the nose.
There dwelt a hard old cockatoo / On western hills far out, / Where everything is green and blue, / Except, of course, in drought; / A crimson Anarchist was he -- / Held other men in scorn -- / Yet preached that ev'ry man was free, / And also ‘ekal born.'