Henry Lawson, 1885
Like clouds o'er the South are the nations who reign
On fair islands that we would command;
But clouds that are darker and denser than these
Have sailed from an Isle in the Northern Seas
And rest on our Southern Land.
Low in dust is our Goddess of Liberty hurled
At our feet, and the time is at hand,
When we, the proud sons of the southern world,
Beneath a proud banner of freedom unfurled
And true to each other shall stand.
If e'er in the ranks of the Right we advance;
Though our enemies come like a flood,
We'll meet them like lions, aroused from our trance,
And show that a streak of the Olden Romance
Still runs in our commonplace blood.