And Other Poems.
65
Mount Macedon is gazing down as proudly as of old,
And Alexander’s lofty brow looks over fields of gold;
They never shift; but where are all the friends we used to know
On Castlemaine and Forest Creek, and dear old Bendigo.
And Alexander’s lofty brow looks over fields of gold;
They never shift; but where are all the friends we used to know
On Castlemaine and Forest Creek, and dear old Bendigo.
No other land has mustered such a kingly race of men
As that brave golden legion on the march to fortune then;
The digger’s shirt was freedom’s badge; beneath it honour’s glow
Lit up a gen’rous manly flame on dear old Bendigo.
As that brave golden legion on the march to fortune then;
The digger’s shirt was freedom’s badge; beneath it honour’s glow
Lit up a gen’rous manly flame on dear old Bendigo.
Old mate of mine, together we have roughed it through the bush
For twenty years, and Time begins to lay his frosting brush
Upon their heads; but in our hearts the flowers of friendship grow
As fresh as when we planted them on dear old Bendigo.
For twenty years, and Time begins to lay his frosting brush
Upon their heads; but in our hearts the flowers of friendship grow
As fresh as when we planted them on dear old Bendigo.
I sigh whene’er I think upon—Jack, pass along the grub—
The music of the pudding mill, the cradle and the tub;
The hurdy-gurdies, German bands, and minstrels too—why, blow
It, you’ve upset the tea—on dear old Bendigo.
The music of the pudding mill, the cradle and the tub;
The hurdy-gurdies, German bands, and minstrels too—why, blow
It, you’ve upset the tea—on dear old Bendigo.
The track of life is sometimes smooth, at other times ’tis rough ;
But we must take it as it comes—this beef is rayther tough—
I feel a spider on my cheek—I’ve caught the varmint—no;
Why, bless me! if it ain’t a tear for dear old Bendigo.
But we must take it as it comes—this beef is rayther tough—
I feel a spider on my cheek—I’ve caught the varmint—no;
Why, bless me! if it ain’t a tear for dear old Bendigo.
