In A Land Where Sport Is Sacred,

The Old Shepherd Had Died, Or Got Drunk, Or Got Rats, Or Got The Sack, Or A Legacy, Or Got Sane, Or Chucked It, Or Got Lost, Or Found, Or A Wife, Or Had Cut His Throat, Or Hanged Himself, Or Got Into Parliament Or The Peerage Anyway, Anything Had Happened To Him That Can Happen To An Old Shepherd Or Any Other Man In The Bush, And He Wasn't There.

The Children Are Taught More Of The Meanest State In Europe Than Of The Country They Are Born And Bred In, Despite The Singularity Of Its Characteristics, The Interest Of Its History, The Rapidity Of Its Advance, And The Stupendous Promise Of Its Future.

In A Land Where Sport Is Sacred, Where The Labourer Is God, You Must Pander To The People, Make A Hero Of A Clod.

It Is The Same With Revolution; So Long As The Proper Spirit Is Spreading Amongst Our Young Men, We Are Satisfied That It Spreads Without Bombast Or Parade.

It Is Quite Time That Our Children Were Taught A Little More About Their Country, For Shame's Sake.