The Poetry Corner

A Singer Of The Bush

By Banjo Paterson (Andrew Barton)

There is a waving of grass in the breeze And a song in the air, And a murmur of myriad bees That toil everywhere. There is scent in the blossom and bough, And the breath of the Spring Is as soft as a kiss on a brow, And Springtime I sing. There is drought on the land, and the stock Tumble down in their tracks Or follow, a tottering flock, The scrub-cutter's axe. While ever a creature survives The axes shall swing; We are fighting with fate for their lives, And the combat I sing.