Ballads and Addresses (Classic Reprint)
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Excerpt from Ballads and Addresses
An Empire-Chantey
And, lo! the mother to her children called:
For all my years I am not old,
I do not falter in my pace.
Yet some there are whose envy I have galled,
Whose might exceeds a hundred-fold
The strength of this my island-race.
And up from the ends of the earth they came -
Rolling along! Rolling along!
"'Tis glory to die to save her shame" -
Singing the old home-song.
In from the out-back block afar,
Where the sheep in their hundred thousand are,
In from the factory, in from the mine,
In from their work on the autumn vine, -
Rolling along at the mother's hest,
From the back-o'-beyond they brought their best.
Call us, mother, call us, -
Over earth, where'er it be,
Call on - no call can stall us:
There's no nation like to thee.
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