"We're All Aus­tralian's Now"

Banjo Pater­son wrote this poem as an open let­ter to the troops in 1915

North West Telegraph - - News -

Aus­tralia takes her pen in hand, To write a line to you, To let you fel­lows un­der­stand, How proud we are of you. From shear­ing shed and cat­tle run, From Broome to Hob­sons Bay, Each na­tive-born Aus­tralian son, Stands straighter up to­day. The man who used to “hump his drum”, On far-out Queens­land runs, Is fight­ing side by side with some Tas­ma­nian farmer’s sons. The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar To grimly stand the test, Along that storm-swept Turk­ish shore, With min­ers from the west. The old state jeal­ousies of yore Are dead as Pharaoh’s sow, We’re not State chil­dren any more We’re all Aus­tralians now! Our six-starred flag that used to fly, Half-shyly to the breeze, Un­known where older na­tions ply Their trade on for­eign seas, Flies out to meet the morn­ing blue With Vict’ry at the prow; For that’s the flag the Syd­ney flew, The wide seas know it now! The met­tle that a race can show Is proved with shot and steel, And now we know what na­tions know And feel what na­tions feel. The hon­oured graves be­neath the crest Of Gaba Tepe hill, May hold our bravest and our best, But we have brave men still. With all our petty quar­rels done, Dis­sen­sions over­thrown, We have, through what you boys have done, A his­tory of our own. Our old world diff’rences are dead, Like weeds be­neath the plough, For English, Scotch, and Ir­ish-bred, They’re all Aus­tralians now! So now we’ll toast the Third Brigade, That led Aus­tralia’s van, For never shall their glory fade In minds Aus­tralian. Fight on, fight on, un­flinch­ingly, Till right and jus­tice reign. Fight on, fight on, till Vic­tory Shall send you home again. And with Aus­tralia’s flag shall fly A spray of wat­tle bough, To sym­bol­ise our unity, We’re all Aus­tralians now.

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