Читать книгу Poetical Works of Henry Lawson - Henry Lawson - Страница 42

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There’s a wind that blows out of the South in the drought,

And we pray for the touch of his breath

When siroccos come forth from the Nor’-West and North,

Or in dead calms of fever and death.

With eyes glad and dim we should sing him a hymn,

For depression and death are his foes;

Oh. it gives us new life for the bread-winning strife

When the glorious Old Southerly blows.

Old Southerly Buster! your forces you muster Where seldom a wind bloweth twice, And your white-caps have hint of the snow caps, and glint of The far-away barriers of ice. No wind the wide sea on can sing such a paean. Or do the great work that you do; Our Own Wind and Only, from seas wild and lonely— Old Southerly Buster!—To you!

The yachts cut away at the close of the day

From the breakers commencing to comb,

For a few he may swamp in the health-giving romp

With the friendly Old Southerly home.

Oh, softly he plays through the city’s hot ways

To the beds where they’re calling “Come, quick!”

He is gentle and mild round the feverish child,

And he cools the hot brow of the sick.

’Tis a glorious mission. Old Sydney’s Physician!—

Broom, Bucket, and Cloth of the East!

’Tis a breeze and a sprayer that answers our prayer,

And it’s free to the greatest and least.

The red-lamp’s a warning to drought and its scorning—

A sign to the city at large—

Hence, Headache and Worry! Despondency, hurry!

Old Southerly Buster’s in charge.

Old Southerly Buster! your forces you muster Where seldom a wind bloweth twice, And your white-caps have hint of the snow caps, and glint of The far-away barriers of ice. No wind the wide sea on can sing such a paean, Or do the great work that you do; Our Own Wind and Only, from seas wild and lonely— Old Southerly Buster!—To you!