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It was all Australia to me—
All I had found or missed:
Every face I was crazy to see,
And every woman I'd kissed:
All that I shouldn't ha' done, God knows!
(As He knows I'll do it again),
That smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg,
Riding in, in the rain!

I saw Sydney the same as ever,
The picnics and brass-bands;
And the little homestead on Hunter River
And my new vines joining hands.
It all came over me in one act
Quick as a shot through the brain—
With the smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg,
Riding in, in the rain!

I have forgotten a hundred fights,
But one I shall not forget—
With the raindrops bunging up my sights

And my eyes bunged up with wet;