While The Billy BoilsSearchYou who speculate in Labour--whether land or mines your spoil--You who gamble with the harvests of the children of the soil!We impeach you as embezzlers--we--the Southern sons of toil.
In the peace of long possession you are blind and you are bold,You have fortified the mountains, and your guns are manifold;But you'll triumph not in this land as you triumphed in the old!
Go and boast of "our resources", but the land shall not progressIn the poverty of labour and the wealth of idleness!Even tho' the nations pass us while we struggle for redress.
Shear us while you can in comfort--not for long you'll rob and rest,There are men of settled purpose in the regions of the West,Hearts of gold to be discovered when the proper spring is press'd.
In the dim and hazy regions that are opposite the mornThere's the spirit of a nation!--there's the patriotism, bornIn the darkness of your blindness and the silence of your scorn.
And the land-shark will not stop it with the wealth at his command,Nor his everlasting fences stretching out across the land(Driving farmers and selectors to the barren soil, and sand).
You have conquered for a season; we are bought and we are sold,You have strength as yet to rule us, and your selfish hearts are cold,But you'll triumph not in this land as you triumphed in the old.