To Tom Bracken

A poem by Henry Lawson

O had you tracked where Kendall trod
I think you would be kneelin’
Three times a week and thankin’ God
That you are of New Zealan’!
For this I’ll say, to make it short,
An’ keep my tongue from clacken,
The people are a kinder sort
You’re singin’ for, Tom Bracken

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