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HOW THE LAND WAS WON

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The future was dark and the past was dead

As they gazed on the sea once more—

But a nation was born when the immigrants said

‘Good-bye!’ as they stepped ashore!

In their loneliness they were parted thus

Because of the work to do,

A wild wide land to be won for us

By hearts and hands so few.

The darkest land ’neath a blue sky’s dome,

And the widest waste on earth;

The strangest scenes and the least like home

In the lands of our fathers’ birth;

The loneliest land in the wide world then,

And away on the furthest seas,

A land most barren of life for men—

And they won it by twos and threes!

With God, or a dog, to watch, they slept

By the camp-fires’ ghastly glow,

Where the scrubs were dark as the blacks that crept

With ‘nulla’ and spear held low;

Death was hidden amongst the trees,

And bare on the glaring sand

They fought and perished by twos and threes—

And that’s how they won the land!

It was two that failed by the dry creek bed,

While one reeled on alone—

The dust of Australia’s greatest dead

With the dust of the desert blown!

Gaunt cheek-bones cracking the parchment skin

That scorched in the blazing sun,

Black lips that broke in a ghastly grin—

And that’s how the land was won!

Starvation and toil on the tracks they went,

And death by the lonely way;

The childbirth under the tilt or tent,

The childbirth under the dray!

The childbirth out in the desolate hut

With a half-wild gin for nurse—

That’s how the first were born to bear

The brunt of the first man’s curse!

They toiled and they fought through the shame of it—

Through wilderness, flood, and drought;

They worked, in the struggles of early days,

Their sons’ salvation out.

The white girl-wife in the hut alone,

The men on the boundless run,

The miseries suffered, unvoiced, unknown—

And that’s how the land was won.

No armchair rest for the old folk then—

But, ruined by blight and drought,

They blazed the tracks to the camps again

In the big scrubs further out.

The worn haft, wet with a father’s sweat,

Gripped hard by the eldest son,

The boy’s back formed to the hump of toil—

And that’s how the land was won!

And beyond Up Country, beyond Out Back,

And the rainless belt, they ride,

The currency lad and the ne’er-do-weel

And the black sheep, side by side;

In wheeling horizons of endless haze

That disk through the Great North-west,

They ride for ever by twos and by threes—

And that’s how they win the rest.

Verses popular and humorous

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