require,
And trees grow thick on every side in spite of axe and fire.
Our sheep and cattle millions count, our wool is classed A1;
In beef and mutton our fair land is not to be outdone.
Why, we’ve lately seen old England, who boasts her stock
ne’er fails,
Has had to send for wholsome meat preserved in New South
Wales.

Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.

In childhood California was to us a land of gold,
And people said its riches were so vast, immense, untold.
But time has proved that mineral wealth exists not there
alone,
For New South Wales possesses gold in many, many a stone.
And when the gold is taken from out its quartzy veins
A heap of silver, copper, tin, as a residue remains.
In fact we are a mass of wealth in all our hills and dales.
There’s not a country half as rich as sunny New South
Wales.

Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.

Our climate’s good, that all admit, our flowers are sweet and
rare;
And scenes abound on every hand so marvellously fair.
Shame on the men who went away and of us wrote such
lies.
Why, when Anthony Trollope came out here he nearly lost