No use; all the money was gone. He looked to left, and looked to right, As though men rode beside; And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white, Raced at his jumps in headlong flight And cleared them in his stride. Later, young Paterson was sent to Sydney Grammar School. For Bob was known on the Overland, A regular old bush wag, Tramping along in the dust and sand, Humping his well-worn swag. A passing good horse.JOCKEY: I rose him yesternoon: it seemed to meThat in good truth a fairly speedy cowMight well outrun him.OWNER: Thou froward varlet; must I say again,That on the Woop Woop course he ran a mileIn less than forty with his irons on!JOCKEY: Then thou should'st bring the Woop Woop course down here.OWNER: Thou pestilential scurvy Knave. The Old Bark Hut 159. He said, `This day I bid good-bye To bit and bridle rein, To ditches deep and fences high, For I have dreamed a dream, and I Shall never ride again. Popular funeral poem based on a short verse by David Harkins. But when they reached the big stone wall, Down went the bridle-hand, And loud we heard Macpherson call, `Make room, or half the field will fall! . (Banjo) Paterson. Some say it was a political comment on the violent shearers strikes happening at the time, while a new book Waltzing Matilda: the true story argues it may have been about a love triangle happening in Patersons life when he wrote it. But when you reach the big stone wall Put down your bridle-hand And let him sail-he cannot fall, But dont you interfere at all; You trust old Rio Grande. We started, and in front we showed, The big horse running free: Right fearlessly and game he strode, And by my side those dead men rode Whom no one else could see. We still had a chance for the money, Two heats remained to be run: If both fell to us -- why, my sonny, The clever division were done. I loudly cried, But right in front they seemed to ride - I cursed them in my sleep. Paterson's . Scarce grew the shell in the shallows, rarely a patch could they touch; Always the take was so little, always the labour so much; Always they thought of the Islands held by the lumbering Dutch -- Islands where shell was in plenty lying in passage and bay, Islands where divers could gather hundreds of shell in a day. It was splendid; He gained on them yards every bound, Stretching out like a greyhound extended, His girth laid right down on the ground. In the early 80s I went from New Zealand to Darwin to work. Review of The Bush Poems of A. And their grandsire gave them a greeting bold: "Come in and rest in peace, No safer place does the country hold -- With the night pursuit must cease, And we'll drink success to the roving boys, And to hell with the black police." We got to the course with our troubles, A crestfallen couple were we; And we heard the " books" calling the doubles -- A roar like the surf of the sea. The Ballad Of The Carpet Bag 152. Then right through the ruck he was sailing -- I knew that the battle was won -- The son of Haphazard was failing, The Yattendon filly was done; He cut down The Don and The Dancer, He raced clean away from the mare -- He's in front! Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet! (Ghost disappears. And aren't they just going a pace? How far did you come last night?" Mark, he said, in twenty minutes Stumpll be a-rushing round, While the other wretched creature lies a corpse upon the ground. But, alas for William Johnson! A shimmer of silk in the cedars As into the running they wheeled, And out flashed the whips on the leaders, For Pardon had collared the field. ')MACPUFF: Kind voters all, and worthy gentlemen,Who rallied to my flag today, and made meMember for Thompson, from my soul I thank you.There needs no trumpet blast, for I can blowLike any trombone. B. All you can do is to hold him and just let him jump as he likes, Give him his head at the fences, and hang on like death if he strikes; Don't let him run himself out -- you can lie third or fourth in the race -- Until you clear the stone wall, and from that you can put on the pace. A poor little child knocked out stiff in the gutter Proclaimed that the scapegoat was bred for a "butter". For folks may widen their mental range, But priest and parson, thay never change." Shel Silverstein (223 poem . He has heard the sound of a sheep-dog's bark, And his horse's warning neigh, And he says to his mate, "There are hawks abroad, And it's time that we went away." 'Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog By the troopers of the upper Murray side, They had searched in every gully -- they had looked in every log, But never sight or track of him they spied, Till the priest at Kiley's Crossing heard a knocking very late And a whisper "Father Riley -- come across!" Nay, rather death!Death before picnic! "Who'll bet on the field? "Go forth into the world," he said, "With blessings on your heart and head, "For God, who ruleth righteously, Hath ordered that to such as be "From birth deprived of mother's love, I bring His blessing from above; "But if the mother's life he spare Then she is made God's messenger "To kiss and pray that heart and brain May go through life without a stain." Beyond all denials The stars in their glories, The breeze in the myalls, Are part of these stories. For us the bush is never sad: Its myriad voices whisper low, In tones the bushmen only know, Its sympathy and welcome glad. The race is run and Shortinbras enters,leading in the winner.FIRST PUNTER: And thou hast trained the winner, thou thyself,Thou complicated liar. there's the wail of a dingo,Watchful and weirdI must go,For it tolls the death-knell of the stockmanFrom the gloom of the scrub down below. don't he just look it -- it's twenty to one on a fall. I'm all of a stew. Great Stuff. J. Dennis. "A hundred miles since the sun went down." Without these, indeed, you Would find it ere long, As though I should read you The words of a song That lamely would linger When lacking the rune, The voice of the singer, The lilt of the tune. They're off and away with a rattle, Like dogs from the leashes let slip, And right at the back of the battle He followed them under the whip. He was a wonder, a raking bay -- One of the grand old Snowdon strain -- One of the sort that could race and stay With his mighty limbs and his length of rein. It's a wayside inn, A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap, Hiding away in its shame and sin Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap -- Under the shade of that frowning range The roughest crowd that ever drew breath -- Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange, Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death". Banjo Paterson. Over the pearl-grounds the lugger drifted -- a little white speck: Joe Nagasaki, the "tender", holding the life-line on deck, Talked through the rope to the diver, knew when to drift or to check. If we get caught, go to prison -- let them take lugger and all!" Embossed with Australian Animals, these premium notebooks are perfect for Back To School. I dreamt last night I rode this race That I today must ride, And cantering down to take my place I saw full many an old friends face Come stealing to my side. Bookmakers call: 'Seven to Four on the Field! And it may be that we who live In this new land apart, beyond The hard old world grown fierce and fond And bound by precedent and bond, May read the riddle right, and give New hope to those who dimly see That all things yet shall be for good, And teach the world at length to be One vast united brotherhood. The Jockey's PunterHas he put up the stuff, or does he waitTo get a better price. We dug where the cross and the grave posts were, We shovelled away the mould, When sudden a vein of quartz lay bare All gleaming with yellow gold. When Moses, who led 'em, and taught 'em, and fed 'em, Was dying, he murmured, "A rorty old hoss you are: I give you command of the whole of the band" -- And handed the Government over to Joshua. Here his eyes opened wide, for close by his side Was the scapegoat: And eating his latest advertisement! Second time round, and, by Jingo! Next, Please "I am a barrister, wigged and gowned; Of stately presence and look profound. SCENE ISCENE: The saddling paddock at a racecourse.Citizens, Battlers, Toffs, Trainers, Flappers, Satyrs, Bookmakers and Turf Experts.Enter Shortinbras, a Trainer, and two Punters.FIRST PUNTER: Good Shortinbras, what thinkest thou of the Fav'rite?SHORTINBRAS (aside): This poltroon would not venture a ducaton David to beat a dead donkey; a dull and muddy-mettled rascal. "I'm into the swagman's yard," he said. Facing it yet! And he ran from the spot like one fearing the worst. And then I watch with a sickly grin While the patient 'passes his counters in'. At the Turon the Yattendon filly Led by lengths at the mile-and-a-half, And we all began to look silly, While her crowd were starting to laugh; But the old horse came faster and faster, His pluck told its tale, and his strength, He gained on her, caught her, and passed her, And won it, hands down, by a length. And more than 100 years after the words were penned we find they still ring out across the nation. Banjo Paterson. Jan 2011. And took to drink, and by some good chance Was killed -- thrown out of a stolen trap. They are flying west, by their instinct guided, And for man likewise is his rate decided, And griefs apportioned and joys divided By a mightly power with a purpose dread. Don't tell me he can ride. "You can talk about your riders -- and the horse has not been schooled, And the fences is terrific, and the rest! I am as skilled as skilled can be In every matter of s. d. I count the money, and night by night I balance it up to a farthing right: In sooth, 'twould a stranger's soul perplex My double entry and double checks. `For I must ride the dead men's race, And follow their command; 'Twere worse than death, the foul disgrace If I should fear to take my place To-day on Rio Grande.' Paterson and his old friend, Lawson, imparted to the literature of their country a note which marked the beginning of a new period. When he thinks he sees them wriggle, when he thinks he sees them bloat, It will cure him just to think of Johnsons Snakebite Antidote. Then he rushed to the museum, found a scientific man Trot me out a deadly serpent, just the deadliest you can; I intend to let him bite me, all the risk I will endure, Just to prove the sterling value of my wondrous snakebite cure. For forty long years, 'midst perils and fears In deserts with never a famine to follow by, The Israelite horde went roaming abroad Like so many sundowners "out on the wallaby". Your sins, without doubt, will aye find you out, And so will a scapegoat, he's bound to achieve it, But, die in the wilderness! The animal, freed from all restraint Lowered his head, made a kind of feint, And charged straight at that elderly saint. It was not much! He mounted, and a jest he threw, With never sign of gloom; But all who heard the story knew That Jack Macpherson, brave and true, Was going to his doom. His ballads of the bush had enormous popularity. The native grasses, tall as grain, Bowed, waved and rippled in the breeze; From boughs of blossom-laden trees The parrots answered back again. They gained ten good lengths on him quickly He dropped right away from the pack; I tell you it made me feel sickly To see the blue jacket fall back. He rolls in his stride; he's done, there's no question!" You never heard tell of the story? Meanwhile, the urge to write had triumphed over the tedium of waiting for clients, the immediate fruit being a pamphlet entitled, Australia for the Australians. It was rather terrible. 'Ten to One, Golumpus. He was neat enough to gallop, he was strong enough to stay! But the whips were flying freely when the field came into view, For the finish down the long green stretch of course, And in front of all the flyers -- jumpin' like a kangaroo, Came the rank outsider -- Father Riley's horse! 'Tis needless to say, though it reeked of barbarity This scapegoat arrangement gained great popularity. Our chiefest singer yet has sung In wild, sweet notes a passing strain, All carelessly and sadly flung To that dull world he thought so vain. "And oft in the shades of the twilight,When the soft winds are whispering low,And the dark'ning shadows are falling,Sometimes think of the stockman below.". Langston Hughes (100 poem) 1 February 1902 - 22 May 1967. Never heard of the honour and glory Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? He neared his home as the east was bright. Boss must be gone off his head to be sending out steeplechase crack Out over fences like these with an object like that on his back. He caught her meaning, and quickly turned To the trooper: "Reckon you'll gain a stripe By arresting me, and it's easily earned; Let's go to the stable and get my pipe, The Swagman has it." Fall! Andrew Barton Paterson was born on the 17th February 1864 in the township of Narambla, New South Wales. Our money all gone and our credit, Our horse couldn't gallop a yard; And then people thought that we did it It really was terribly hard. Johnson was a free-selector, and his brain went rather queer, For the constant sight of serpents filled him with a deadly fear; So he tramped his free-selection, morning, afternoon, and night, Seeking for some great specific that would cure the serpents bite. "Well, you're back right sudden,"the super said; "Is the old man dead and the funeral done?" But as one halk-bearing An old-time refrain, With memory clearing, Recalls it again, These tales roughly wrought of The Bush and its ways, May call back a thought of The wandering days; And, blending with each In the memories that throng There haply shall reach You some echo of song. "I dreamt I was homeward, back over the mountain track,With joy my mother fainted and gave a loud scream.With the shock I awoke, just as the day had broke,And found myself an exile, and 'twas all but a dream. A favourite for the comparison of the rough and ready Geebung Polo Club members and their wealthy city competitors The Cuff and Collar Team. He showed 'em the method of travel -- The boy sat still as a stone -- They never could see him for gravel; He came in hard-held, and alone. "But it's getting on to daylight and it's time to say goodbye, For the stars above the east are growing pale. And he was a hundred miles from home, As flies the crow, with never a track Through plains as pathless as ocean's foam; He mounted straight on The Swagman's back. . The Jews were so glad when old Pharaoh was "had" That they sounded their timbrels and capered like mad. And so it comes that they take no part In small world worries; each hardy rover Rides like a paladin, light of heart, With the plains around and the blue sky over. Lonely and sadly one night in NovemberI laid down my weary head in search of reposeOn my wallet of straw, which I long shall remember,Tired and weary I fell into a doze.Tired from working hardDown in the labour yard,Night brought relief to my sad, aching brain.Locked in my prison cell,Surely an earthly hell,I fell asleep and began for to dream.I dreamt that I stood on the green fields of Erin,In joyous meditation that victory was won.Surrounded by comrades, no enemy fearing. And we thought of the hint that the swagman gave When he went to the Great Unseen -- We shovelled the skeleton out of the grave To see what his hint might mean. On this day: Banjo Paterson was born )GHOST: The Pledge! Prithee, let us go!Thanks to you all who shared this glorious day,Whom I invite to dance at Chowder Bay! So he went and fetched his canine, hauled him forward by the throat. The Bushfire - An Allegory 161. He had called him Faugh-a-ballagh, which is French for 'Clear the course', And his colours were a vivid shade of green: All the Dooleys and O'Donnells were on Father Riley's horse, While the Orangemen were backing Mandarin! Follow fast.Exeunt PuntersSCENE IIThe same. A Dog's Mistake. . Robert Frost (191 poem) March 26, 1874 - January 29, 1963. Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain? )What if it should be! Shall we hear the parrots calling on the bough? "At a pound a hundred it's dashed hard lines To shear such sheep," said the two Devines. The Seekers recorded it three times, and Slim played it at the closing ceremony of the Sydney 2000 Olympics. For all I ever had of theeMy children were unfed, my wife unclothed,And I myself condemned to menial toil.PUNTER: The man who keeps a winner to himselfDeserves but death. Poems of Banjo Paterson. [Editor: This poem by "Banjo" Patersonwas published in The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, 1895; previously published in The Bulletin, 15 December 1894.] Because all your sins are 'his troubles' in future. he's holding his lead of 'em well; Hark to him clouting the timber! Born and bred on the mountain side, He could race through scrub like a kangaroo; The girl herself on his back might ride, And The Swagman would carry her safely through. Maya Angelou (52 poem) 4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014. "For there's some has got condition, and they think the race is sure, And the chestnut horse will fall beneath the weight, But the hopes of all the helpless, and the prayers of all the poor, Will be running by his side to keep him straight. (Kills him)Curtain falls on ensemble of punters, bookmakers,heads and surviving jockeys and trainers. With pomp and solemnity fit for the tomb They lead the old billy-goat off to his doom: On every hand a reverend band, Prophets and preachers and elders stand And the oldest rabbi, with a tear in his eye, Delivers a sermon to all standing by. They bred him out back on the "Never", His mother was Mameluke breed. But it's harder still, is keeping out of gaol! To the hut at the Stockman's Ford; Weight! But Gilbert wakes while the night is dark -- A restless sleeper aye. hes down! And horse and man Lay quiet side by side! `As silently as flies a bird, They rode on either hand; At every fence I plainly heard The phantom leader give the word, "Make room for Rio Grande!" It was shearing time at the Myall Lake, And then rose the sound through the livelong day Of the constant clash that the shear-blades make When the fastest shearers are making play; But there wasn't a man in the shearers' lines That could shear a sheep with the two Devines. And more than 100 years after the words were penned we find they still ring out across the nation. And thy health and strength are beyond confessing As the only joys that are worth possessing. You see we were green; and we never Had even a thought of foul play, Though we well might have known that the clever Division would "put us away". The Pledge!MACBREATH: I say I never signed the gory pledge. He was educated at Sydney Grammar School. His language was chaste, as he fled in his haste, But the goat stayed behind him -- and "scoffed up" the paste. Enter a Messenger. Mr. Paterson was a prolific writer of light topical verse. But he weighed in, nine stone seven, then he laughed and disappeared, Like a banshee (which is Spanish for an elf), And old Hogan muttered sagely, "If it wasn't for the beard They'd be thinking it was Andy Regan's self!" Jan 2011. Captain Andrew Barton Banjo Paterson (Right) of 2nd Remounts, Australian Imperial Force in Egypt. This never will do. Run for some other seat,Let the woods hide thee. Him goin' to ride for us! Home Topics History & Culture Top 10 iconic Banjo Paterson bush ballads. )Thou com'st to use thy tongue. From the southern slopes to the western pines They were noted men, were the two Devines. (Ghost of Thompson appears to him suddenly. Come back! And the priest would join the laughter: "Oh," said he, "I put him in, For there's five-and-twenty sovereigns to be won. Mulga Bill's Bicycle was written by Banjo Paterson in 1896. Not on the jaundiced choiceOf folks who daily run their half a mileJust after breakfast, when the steamer hootsHer warning to the laggard, not on theseRelied Macbreath, for if these rustics' choiceHad fall'n on Thompson, I should still have claimedA conference. The refereecounts, 'One, two, three, eight, nine, ten, out! There's never a stone at the sleeper's head, There's never a fence beside, And the wandering stock on the grave may tread Unnoticed and undenied; But the smallest child on the Watershed Can tell you how Gilbert died. "We will show the boss how a shear-blade shines When we reach those ewes," said the two Devines. Ride! And his wife got round, and an oath he passed, So long as he or one of his breed Could raise a coin, though it took their last, The Swagman never should want a feed. He would camp for days in the river-bed, And loiter and "fish for whales". He had hunted them out of the One Tree Hill And over the Old Man Plain, But they wheeled their tracks with a wild beast's skill, And they made for the range again; Then away to the hut where their grandsire dwelt They rode with a loosened rein. Of Scottish descent on his father's side,. Banjo published this mischievous tale of a young lad who doesnt want to be christened and ends up being named after a whisky in The Bulletin in 1893. Listen awhile till I show you round. He rolled and he weltered and wallowed -- You'd kick your hat faster, I'll bet; They finished all bunched, and he followed All lathered and dripping with sweat. Andrew Barton Paterson was born on the 17th February 1864 in the township of Narambla, New South Wales. Nothing could conquer that heart of thine. Away in the camp the bill-sticker's tramp Is heard as he wanders with paste, brush, and notices, And paling and wall he plasters them all, "I wonder how's things gettin' on with the goat," he says, The pulls out his bills, "Use Solomon's Pills" "Great Stoning of Christians! . For weight wouldn't stop him, nor distance, Nor odds, though the others were fast; He'd race with a dogged persistence, And wear them all down at the last. James Tyson (8 April 1819 - 4 December 1898 . and this poem is great!!!! today Banjo Paterson is still one of Australia's best-loved poets.this complete collection of his verse shows the bush balladeer at his very best with favourites such as 'A Bush . Written from the point of view of the person being laid to rest. Prithee, chase thyself! Published in 1889 in the Australian news magazine, The Bulletin, Clancy of The Overflow is a story about a city-dweller who meets a drover and proceeds to romanticise his outback life. He looked to left and looked to right, As though men rode beside; And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white, Raced at his jumps in headlong flight And cleared them in his stride. At sixteen he matriculated and was articled to a Sydney law firm. ('Twas strange that in racing he showed so much cunning), "It's a hard race," said he, "and I think it would be A good thing for someone to take up the running." Think of all the foreign nations, negro, chow, and blackamoor, Saved from sudden expiration, by my wondrous snakebite cure. Read all poems by Banjo Paterson written. As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee -- Oh! His mind was filled with wond'ring doubt; He grabbed his hat and he started out, He walked the street and he made a "set" At the first half-dozen folk he met. But on his ribs the whalebone stung A madness, sure, it seemed And soon it rose on every tongue That Jack Macpherson rode among The creatures he had dreamed. Be that as it may, as each year passed away, a scapegoat was led to the desert and freighted With sin (the poor brute must have been overweighted) And left there -- to die as his fancy dictated. Battleaxe, Battleaxe wins! An uplifting poem about being grateful for a loved one's life. Some of his best-known poems are 'Clancy of the Overflow' and 'Waltzing Matilda.'. The meaning of various words within the poem are given in the "Editor's notes" section at the end.] Far to the Northward there lies a land, A wonderful land that the winds blow over, And none may fathom or understand The charm it holds for the restless rover; A great grey chaos -- a land half made, Where endless space is and no life stirreth; There the soul of a man will recoil afraid From the sphinx-like visage that Nature weareth. The Reverend Mullineux 155. And Kate Carew, when her father died, She kept the horse and she kept him well; The pride of the district far and wide, He lived in style at the bush hotel. We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave At the foot of the Eaglehawk; We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave For fear that his ghost might walk; We carved his name on a bloodwood tree With the date of his sad decease And in place of "Died from effects of spree" We wrote "May he rest in peace". I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better. To the front -- and then stay there - was ever The root of the Mameluke creed. If Pardon don't spiel like tarnation And win the next heat -- if he can -- He'll earn a disqualification; Just think over that now, my man!" A Bushman's Song I'm travelling down the Castlereagh, and I'm a station-hand, I'm handy with the ropin' pole, I'm handy with the brand, Dustjacket synopsis: "The poetry selected for this collection reveals Paterson's love and appreciation for the Australina bush and its people. I've prayed him over every fence -- I've prayed him out and back! . But when they reached the big stone wall, Down went the bridle-hand, And loud we heard Macpherson call Make room, or half the field will fall! This sentimental work about a drover selling his faithful horse and reminiscing about their days on the land still speaks to people as mechanised transport and the cost of maintaining stock routes sees the very last of the drovers disappearing. Ah! As participation in freediving reaches new levels, we look at whats driving the sports growing popularity. But hold! I watch as the wild black swans fly over With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun; And I hear the clang of their leader crying To a lagging mate in the rearward flying, And they fade away in the darkness dying, Where the stars are mustering one by one. The first heat was soon set a-going; The Dancer went off to the front; The Don on his quarters was showing, With Pardon right out of the hunt. What meant he by his prateOf Fav'rite and outsider and the like?Forsooth he told us nothing. By this means a Jew, whate'er he might do, Though he burgled, or murdered, or cheated at loo, Or meat on Good Friday (a sin most terrific) ate, Could get his discharge, like a bankrupt's certificate; Just here let us note -- Did they choose their best goat? One shriek from him burst -- "You creature accurst!"