Henry Lawson City Poems

It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went,
For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent;
And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and the push,
...

On western plain and eastern hill
Where once my fancy ranged,
The station hands are riding still
And they are little changed.
...

Oh! the folly, the waste, and the pity! Oh, the time that is flung behind!
They are seeking a site for a city, whose eyes shall be always blind,
...