When steerin' weans are sleeping sound,
And night is getting late;
I smoke my pipe, and dauner round,
And lean across my gate.
I hear the rumble far awa'
Of trains and tramway cars;
I hardly notice them at a',
But stand and watch the stars.
For stars, to me, aye seem to say,
"What's a' your fash and fret?
You never lacked three meals a day,
Nor died in winter yet."
If folk exist in distant stars,
As clever bodies state;
I wonder if some man in Mars,
Is leaning o'er his gate.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 June 1930
Author: nothing is known about the author of this poem.
Author reference sites: Austlit
And night is getting late;
I smoke my pipe, and dauner round,
And lean across my gate.
I hear the rumble far awa'
Of trains and tramway cars;
I hardly notice them at a',
But stand and watch the stars.
For stars, to me, aye seem to say,
"What's a' your fash and fret?
You never lacked three meals a day,
Nor died in winter yet."
If folk exist in distant stars,
As clever bodies state;
I wonder if some man in Mars,
Is leaning o'er his gate.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 June 1930
Author: nothing is known about the author of this poem.
Author reference sites: Austlit
