THE SONG OF THE HEATHEN.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XIX, Issue 1109, 13 July 1911, Page 20

THE SONG OF THE HEATHEN.

«By

Henry Lawson,

in the “Bulletin.”)

We must not kiss in the gardens, We must not sing in the street, We must not jump with a joyous shout When a long-lost friend we meet. We must not race by the sea-shore, We must not sit on the sand. We must not laugh on a New Year Night, For this is the Wowsers’ land, ’ Oh, this is the Wowsers’ land, ■ And the laughing days are o’er, For most of the things that we used to do . We must not .do any more! We musn’t be glad on a Sunday now, For fear of a fine or gaol; We must not eat the fruits of the earth, Nor drink of the ginger ale; We must not go to a picture show, No matter how pure it be; On a moonlit night, when the stars are bright. We scarce dare stroll by the sea. We scarce dare stroll by the sea, For the plain clo. “John’s” about, And the she-male’s nigh with an evil oy© And the’ Wowseradite is out. The little boys musn’t play marbles, They musn’t trundle a hoop; We must not cheer for the Senate Nor yet for our nation whoop! Oh, tell me in cursing anger. Oh, tell me in grief and tears, Oh, tell me if this is Australia I wake to after the years! I wake to after the years— The land that I thought was free; iOh. tell me whatever in Heaven , Or Hell can the matter be! Oh, glorious skies above us. Oh, spring-green earth beneath. Oh. kindly gods that love us. Oh the open air we breathe; Oh, song of the mighty Bushland, Oh, light of the wild bush-flowers, Oh, the surge of the grandest ocean At the gate of this land of ours. At the gate of this land of ours ; By religious mania cursed; Say what has brought clouds upon us? Who brought the germ in first? If this be the end of our striving, The reward of the fighting years; If this be the goal of the Commonwealth, I go with the Cavaliers; I go with the drinking fighters. With laughing rakes and carls— If this be the work of Cromwell, Ride hard! Ride hard for King Charles! Ride hard! Ride hard for King Charles, Nor think of the useless slain; Then back to the world and nature— The truth and the* devil again!