Page:The Poems of Henry Kendall (1920).djvu/55

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, go over the tops of the hill,

For the Death-clouds have passed us to-day,

And we'll cry in the dark for the foot-falls still,

And the tracks which are fading away!

Let them yell to their lubras, the Bulginbah dogs,

And say how our brothers were slain,

We shall wipe out our grief in the blood of their chief,

And twenty more dead on the plain—

On the blood-spattered spurs of the plain!

But the low winds sigh,

And the dead leaves fly,

Where our warriors lie,

In the dingoes' den—in the white-cedar glen

On the banks of the gloomy Urara!

Urara! Urara!

On the banks of the gloomy Urara!

The Wallaroos grope through the tufts of the grass,

And crawl to their coverts for fear;

But we'll sit in the ashes and let them pass

Where the boomerangs sleep with the spear!

Oh! our hearts will be lonely and low to-night

When we think of the hunts of yore;

And the foes that we sought, and the fights which we fought,

With those who will battle no more—

Who will go to the battle no more!

For the dull winds sigh,

And the dead leaves fly,

Where our warriors lie,

In the dingoes' den—in the white-cedar glen

On the banks of the gloomy Urara!

Urara! Urara!

On the banks of the gloomy Urara!

Oh! the gorges and gullies are black with crows,

And they feast on the flesh of the brave;

But the forest is loud with the howls of our foes

For those whom they never can save!