"Australians"

A poem written after hearing a wealthy merchant in South Africa speak disparagingly of Australians:

AUSTRALIANS.

We started on the shore of Durban
And watch the transports go
To England from Australia
Hurrying to and fro
Bearing the men of a Nation
Who are heroes to the core
To stand or fall by the Motherland
And there standing thousands more.

We’ve watched the ships returning
With the crippled and the maimed
With limbs that trail and falter
There is an immortal name
The deathless name of ANZAC
That thrills from Pole to Pole
The remnants of the Heroes
On the long and glorious Roll

And now in their tens of hundreds
Come the men to fill the ranks
And what can we do to show them
Our love, Our pride, Our thanks
We can’t do much ( I own it )
But give them a passing cheer
While the real Elite beat a shocked retreat
Why they saw one drinking beer

Oh God could we show these misers
The path that the ANZACS went
Could they rest  on their beds at nighttimes
Or live in their damned content
Could they talk with a sneer of Australians
When one or two got drunk
I’d rather a drunk Australian
Than a wealthy Durban “funk”

He’s a better man than you are
You dear leetable Saint
You do not drink. You will not fight
He’s a better man than you are
You dear leetable Saint
You do not drink. You will not fight
What wonderful restraint
We stand on the shore of Durban
And the glorious name of ANZAC
Thrills us through and through

But all we can do is cheer them
And throw them a trifle from shore
We’re not millionaires like some are
Or perhaps we would try to do more