The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings* wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
Ive been to the West, the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.
Ive had my fling on the Sydney-side, said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he cant be taught: Ive learnt whats good for me.
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dimgrown dim in his softened eyes
With a pain in his heart that was good for himas he saw the Three Kings rise.
A pale girl sits on the focsle headshe is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him saloon.
There is refuge still in the old folks arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farmand the Three Kings will not tell.
Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.
Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and goldand the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So its off and away in our youthful pridebut the Three Kings bide our time.
