Kerosene Bay

Henry Lawson, 1914

      'Tis strange on such a peaceful day
      With white clouds flying o'er,
      That foreign boats are in the bay
      As prisoners of war.
      The Harbour, where they quietly lay;
      Smiles brightly as of yore.

      Where never angry shot was fired
      To alter peaceful plans;
      Where British lumpers worked till tired
      With Yacob and with Hans,
      And "shouted" when their work was done
      For other "sailormans".

      And while we think of other lands
      And what is doing there,
      And while we think of what red hands
      May wreak in our despair —
      How can the Harbour be so blue,
      And the sky above so fair?