As Far as Your Rifles Cover

Henry Lawson, 1901

      Do you think, you slaves of a thousand years to poverty, wealth and pride,
      You can crush the spirit that has been free in a land that's new and wide?
      When you've scattered the last of the farmer bands, and the war for a while is over,
      You will hold the land — ay, you'll hold the land — the land that your rifles cover.
      Till your gold has levelled each mountain range where a wounded man can hide,
      Till your gold has lighted the moonless night on the plains where the rebels ride;
      Till the future is proved, and the past is bribed from the son of the land's dead lover —
      You may hold the land — you may hold the land just as far as your rifles cover