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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 55

To the South

page break

To the South.

To the South, to the South to the land of the free,
Where avalauch huge slides down to the sea,
Where the mountains all teem with silver' and gold,
And rare floral wealth, starts out of the would,
Where sheep in vast flocks, with paunches so full,
Give a harvest of mutton, and another of wool'
Give clothes for your back, and food for your mouth,
Away, far away, to the land of the south.
To the South to the South [unclear: ss]

To the South, to the South, where the rivers that [unclear: sow]
Are dancing all mad, the ocean to go,
Where lakes glass the mountains, which fringe them [unclear: crassed]
And water alls make big echoes resound;
Where the Maori is eager, to sell you his land,
And wive you beside, if you be not too grand,
Where the Winter's no frost, and summer's no drought
Away far away, to the land of the South
To the South, to the South &c

To the South, to the South, there's wealth to be made,
By pick, and by axe, by plough, and by spade,.
The forest to fell, the sod to upturn.
The land all to fence, and its rankness to burn,
There's cities to build, and roadways to make,
And a nation to start, on the old one's wake,
Where one lives like a king, and not hand to month,
Away, far away, to the land of the South.
To the South, to the South &c.