Oh, My Ways Are Strange Ways And

Oh, My Ways Are Strange Ways And New Ways And Old Ways, And Deep Ways And Steep Ways And High Ways And Low, I'm At Home And At Ease On A Track That I Know Not, And Restless And Lost On A Road That I Know.

I’ve Never Seen Anyone Rehabilitated By Punishment.

It Is Quite Time That Our Children Were Taught A Little More About Their Country, For Shame's Sake.

The Old Shepherd Had Died, Or Got Drunk, Or Got Rats, Or Got The Sack, Or A Legacy, Or Got Sane, Or Chucked It, Or Got Lost, Or Found, Or A Wife, Or Had Cut His Throat, Or Hanged Himself, Or Got Into Parliament Or The Peerage Anyway, Anything Had Happened To Him That Can Happen To An Old Shepherd Or Any Other Man In The Bush, And He Wasn't There.

Who Says Australia Offers Not A Home For Every Poor Englishman, Or Any Other Countryman That Finds His Way To Our Shores? And What Sort Of Thanks Do We Get For It?