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A poem by Henry Lawson |
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The Free-Selector's Daughter |
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Title: The Free-Selector's Daughter Author: Henry Lawson [More Titles by Lawson] I met her on the Lachlan Side -- I milked her father's cows a month, I listened to her father's yarns, I broke my pipe and burnt my twist, Then, rising in the frosty morn, I poured the milk into the dish I told her I must leave the place, I put the bucket on the ground, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |