The earliest lady in the land,
Her pride of caste is high.
Where blue Corio's gleaming strand
Dream 'neath a peaceful sky,
She sat her down by her five towns,
And, garbed in best of homespun gowns,
She watched life pass her by.
A leisured lady then, and staid,
She mused beside her Bay,
While Barwon, in the You Yangs shade,
Droned thro' the drowsy day.
But now comes unaccustomed stir,
Since Henry, to enliven her,
Sent Lizzie here to stay.
A spiteful story men once spread,
Who sought to work her wrong,
About a woman who, they said,
Bore three sons hale and strong.
And, of the three, they used to tell,
Two still survived alive and well;
The third was in Geelong.
Now, she lives down that libelled past;
Life quickens in her streets;
Her mien grows brisk, her trade is vast;
With eager hands she meets
New ways, and bustles with a will;
But, fat and comfortable still,
Smiles upon all she greets.
Alert, yet sensible and sane,
As trade comes rushing in,
She shrewdly turns it to her gain
With sturdy will to win;
And still, withal contrives to wear
A kindly and complacent air.
And woollens next the skin.