Down in Australia

Quaff a cup, and send a cheer up for the Old Land!

We have heard the Reapers shout,
For the Harvest going out,
With the smoke of battle closing round the bold
Land;

And our message shall be hurled
Right across the ringing world,
There are true hearts beating for you in the Gold Land.

We are with you in your battles, brave and bold Land!

For the old ancestral tree
Striketh root beneath the sea,
And it beareth fruit of Freedom in the Gold Land!

We shall come, too, if you call,
We shall Fight on if you fall;
Cromwell's land shall never be a bought and sold Land.

The standard of the Lord wave o'er the Old Land!

For the waiting world holds breath
While she treads the den of Death,
With the peaceful sleeve stript up from her bare bold
hand;

And her rose in blood must bloom
On the bosom, and the tomb
Of her many heroes fallen for the Old Land.

But, a terror to the Tyrant is that bold Land
He remembers how she stood,
With her raiment rol'd in blood,
When the tide of battle burst upon the Old Land;

And he looks with darkened face,
For he knows the hero race
Strike the Harp of Freedom — draw her Sword with
bold hand.

Let thy glorious voice be heard, thou great and bold
Land!

Speak the one victorious word,
And fair Freedom's wander'd Bird
Shall wing back with leaf of promise from the Old
Land;

And the people shall come out
From their slave land with a shout
For the spring that greeneth in the Future's Gold Land.

When the smoke of Battle rises from the Old Land,
You shall see the Tyrant down!

You shall see the ransoni'd crown
On the brow of prisoned peoples won with bold hand:

She shall thresh her foes like corn,
They shall eat the bread of scorn,
And we'll sing her song of triumph in the Gold Land.

Quaff a cup, and send a cheer up for the Old Land.

We have heard the .Reapers shout,
For the Harvest going out,
Seen the smoke of battle closing round the bold Land;

And our answer shall be hurl'd
Right across the ringing world, —
There are true hearts beating for you in the Gold Land.