Henry Lawson

(17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922 / Grenfell, New South Wales)

Henry Lawson Poems

81. Dan, The Wreck 12/31/2002
82. Dawgs Of War 3/26/2010
83. Divorced 3/26/2010
84. Do You Think That I Do Not Know? 3/26/2010
85. Down The River 3/26/2010
86. Eureka 1/1/2004
87. Eurunderee 12/31/2002
88. Every Man Should Have A Rifle 1/1/2004
89. Everyone's Friend 3/29/2010
90. Everyone's Friend 3/26/2010
91. Faces In The Street 12/31/2002
92. Fall In, My Men, Fall In 1/1/2004
93. Fall In, My Men, Fall In 3/29/2010
94. Fighting Hard 3/26/2010
95. For All The Land To See: A Song Of The Tools 3/26/2010
96. For Australia 1/1/2004
97. For He Was A Jolly Good Fellow 3/26/2010
98. For'Ard 1/1/2004
99. Foreign Lands 3/26/2010
100. Freedom On The Wallaby 1/1/2004
101. From The Bush 1/1/2004
102. Genoa 3/26/2010
103. Gettin Back 3/26/2010
104. Gipsy Too 3/26/2010
105. Give Yourself A Show: New Year's Eve 3/26/2010
106. Golden Gully 3/26/2010
107. Grace Jennings Carmicheal 3/26/2010
108. Grey Wolves Grey 3/26/2010
109. Gs [or The Fourth Cook] 3/26/2010
110. Hannah Thomburn 3/26/2010
111. Harry Stephens 3/26/2010
112. Hawkers 3/26/2010
113. He Had So Much Work To Do 3/26/2010
114. He Mourned His Master 3/26/2010
115. He’s Gone To England For A Wife 3/26/2010
116. Heed Not! 3/26/2010
117. Here Died 1/1/2004
118. Here's Luck 3/26/2010
119. His Brother’s Keeper 3/26/2010
120. How The Land Was Won 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Henry Lawson

Andy's Gone With Cattle


Our Andy's gone to battle now
'Gainst Drought, the red marauder;
Our Andy's gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.

He's left us in dejection now;
Our hearts with him are roving.
It's dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.

Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When Fortune frowns her blackest?

Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy ...

Read the full of Andy's Gone With Cattle

`for'Ard'


It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep,
For there's near a hundred for'ard, and they're stowed away like sheep, --
They are trav'lers for the most part in a straight 'n' honest path;
But their linen's rather scanty, an' there isn't any bath --
Stowed away like ewes and wethers that is shore 'n' marked 'n' draft.
But the shearers of the shearers always seem to travel aft;
In the cushioned cabins, aft,
With saloons 'n' smoke-rooms, aft --

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