Saltbush Bill and other Verses

A Singer of the Bush

Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson

THERE is 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 Spring-time 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.