He is long, he is lean, he is wiry;
He is loose-limbed and carelessly hung;
He is quick on the flare-up and fiery;
He swears with an eloquent tongue.
He’s at home on a horse or a camel;
He could sleep in the top of a tree;
He’ll try anything twice, and again if it’s nice,
For a dinkum Australian is he.
His skin is as brown as a gipsy’s;
Like a gipsy he’s thoroughly versed
In the lore of the high-stepping ponies;
He is blessed with a marvellous thirst.
He smokes cigarettes by the thousands;
He is happy-go-lucky and free;
Independent and shows it, and ‘don’t care who knows it,’
For a thoroughbred Aussie is he.
His fingers were born to a rifle;
His long legs for marching were made;
He’ll stand up the world to a finish,
And go down, if he goes, unafraid.
For he’s lord of the earth and its master,
The mountains thereof, and the sea;
Don’t dispute or forget it, or he’ll make you regret it,
For a dinkum Australian is he.
In love as in war, he’s a terror,
Whom nothing can daunt or dismay;
If he doesn’t run after the sheilas,
He never, at least, runs away.
His eyes are brown blossoms of passion,
Gold-glinting, a glory to see;
Sparkling and sprightful, and wholly delightful,
For a red-blooded Aussie is he.
He may hail you in French or Egyptian,
As suits his immediate whim;
The slang of Port Said and Toowoomba
Alike are familiar to him.
For he’s gone where his banners have beckoned,
And his tremulous drums made their plea;
And he’s picked up the patter of half the world’s chatter,
For a dinkum Australian is he.
Right down to his toes he’d a gambler,
A sport to his very last breath;
He will laugh in the face of disaster,
Toss pennies or guineas with Death.
He puts not his trust in his princes,
But dare to asperse them and see
With what personal feeling he’ll send you far-reeling,
For a loyal Australian is he.
He is lovable, natural, forceful;
He is versatile, vivid, alert;
Audacious, courageous, resourceful,
Aspiring, inquiring, expert.
He’s at home in the air or the water,
For a dinkum Australian is he;
And I’ve done some hard thinking, and I’ll say without winking,
It’s a dinkum Australian for me!
by Lydia O'Neil (1924)