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The Wattle Blossoms Bloom (1905)

( For the " Bunbury Harald." )

You may talk about Old England,
Where the grass is ever green ;
And the bonnie hills of Scotland
Where the mists are ever seen ;
You may brag about your roses,
Your heather and your broom,
But give me bright Australia
Where the wattle blossoms bloom.

I caressed the golden blossoms,
As I held them in my hand,
And my mind is taken backward
To a far and distant land ;
I lose all thought and worry
Of strikes, and slumps and booms,
And I'm once more on the station
Where the wattle blossoms bloom.

I had left the busy city,
With its noise and din of life,
For I felt a little weary
Of the battle and the strife ;
As I sat beside the fire
In my snug and cosy room,
I saw upon the mantelpiece
A spray of wattle bloom.

I mount my horse at daylight,
And I gaily start away
To fetch the station horses
That are wanted for the day ;
And I make straight for the gully
That is fragrant with perfume ;
And the hills around are golden
With the wattle blossoms bloom.

When they see us in the distance
They try to get away,
And I have a glorious gallop
All among the golden spray ;
And my heart swells out with gladness,
Till I feel it hasn't room,
And the horse, too, seems to revel
In the wattle blossoms bloom.

He springs and bounds beaeath me,
As we head them for the yard,
And my hands are getting tired
For he pulls so very hard ;
I try in vain to check him,
But the brute will fret and fume,
So I give him rein again, and dash
Among the wattle bloom.

Ah me ! how sweet the memory
Of the dear old station life--
But hark ! there goes the dinner bell
I musn't keep the wife ;
Bnt when the struggle's over,
I will ask no better tomb
Than a bed upon the hillside
Where the wattle blossoms bloom.

Harvey. B.


From the Western Australian newspaper the Bunbury Herald Wednesday 16 August 1905, p. 3.


australian traditional songs . . . a selection by mark gregory