At length the hardy pioneers By rock and crag found out the way, And woke with voices of today A silence kept for years and tears. )Thou com'st to use thy tongue. and he had fled! `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. Old Australian Ways 157. Pablo Neruda (143 poem) 12 July 1904 - 23 September 1973. "I dreamt that the night was quickly advancing,I saw the dead and dying on the green crimson plain.Comrades I once knew well in death's sleep reposing,Friends that I once loved but shall ne'er see again.The green flag was waving high,Under the bright blue sky,And each man was singing most gloriously. Moral The moral is patent to all the beholders -- Don't shift your own sins on to other folks' shoulders; Be kind to dumb creatures and never abuse them, Nor curse them nor kick them, nor spitefully use them: Take their lives if needs must -- when it comes to the worst, But don't let them perish of hunger or thirst. (Strikes him. But the lumbering Dutch in their gunboats they hunted the divers away. And more than 100 years after the words were penned we find they still ring out across the nation. he's down!' He was in his 77th year. 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!" Gone is the garden they kept with care; Left to decay at its own sweet will, Fruit trees and flower-beds eaten bare, Cattle and sheep where the roses were, Under the shadow of Kiley's Hill. Come back! His Father, Andrew a Scottish farmer from Lanarkshire. Paul Kelly - The 23rd Psalm 2. . Joe Nagasaki, his "tender", is owner and diver instead. And away in another court I lurk While a junior barrister does your work; And I ask my fee with a courtly grace, Although I never came near the case. The Jews were so glad when old Pharaoh was "had" That they sounded their timbrels and capered like mad. Geebung is the indigenous name for a tough fruiting shrub (Persoonia sp.). More recently, in 2008 world-famous Dutch violinist Andre Rieu played the tune to a singing Melbourne audience of more than 38,000 people. 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. Dived in the depths of the Darnleys, down twenty fathom and five; Down where by law, and by reason, men are forbidden to dive; Down in a pressure so awful that only the strongest survive: Sweated four men at the air pumps, fast as the handles could go, Forcing the air down that reached him heated and tainted, and slow -- Kanzo Makame the diver stayed seven minutes below; Came up on deck like a dead man, paralysed body and brain; Suffered, while blood was returning, infinite tortures of pain: Sailed once again to the Darnleys -- laughed and descended again! Conroy's Gap 154. The tongue-in-cheek story of Mulga Bill, a man who claimed he was an excellent cyclist only to crash, was published by The Sydney Mail. As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee -- Oh! `"But when you reach the big stone wall, Put down your bridle hand And let him sail - he cannot fall - But don't you interfere at all; You trust old Rio Grande." How Gilbert Died. Says Jimmy, "The children of Judah Are out on the warpath today." And the priest would join the laughter: "Oh," said he, "I put him in, For there's five-and-twenty sovereigns to be won. 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. What scoundrel ever would dare to hint That anything crooked appears in print! Spoken too low for the trooper's ear, Why should she care if he heard or not? It was published in 1896 in the Australasian Pastoralists Review (1913-1977) and also in Patersons book Saltbush Bill, J.P. and Other Verses. Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain? say, on!MESSENGER: As I did stand my watch in ParliamentI saw the Labour platform come acrossAnd join Kyabram, Loans were overthrown,The numbers were reduced, extravaganceIs put an end to by McGowan's vote.MACBREATH: The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!Where got'st thou this fish yarn?MESSENGER: There's nearly forty,MACBREATH: Thieves, fool?MESSENGER: No, members, will be frozen out of work!MACBREATH: Aye, runs the story so! Banjo Paterson was born at Narrambla, and passed his earliest years at Buckinbah, near Obley, on an unfenced block of dingo infested country leased by his father and uncle from the Crown. For things have changed on Cooper's Creek Since Ludwig Leichhardt died. She loved this Ryan, or so they say, And passing by, while her eyes were dim With tears, she said in a careless way, "The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim." 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. The breeze came in with the scent of pine, The river sounded clear, When a change came on, and we saw the sign That told us the end was near. Wearer of pearls in your necklace, comfort yourself if you can. No need the pallid face to scan, We knew with Rio Grande he ran The race the dead men ride. We've come all this distance salvation to win agog, If he takes home our sins, it'll burst up the Synagogue!" He came for the third heat light-hearted, A-jumping and dancing about; The others were done ere they started Crestfallen, and tired, and worn out. I would fain go back to the old grey river, To the old bush days when our hearts were light; But, alas! "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." . A Ballad of Ducks. So they buried Andy Regan, and they buried him to rights, In the graveyard at the back of Kiley's Hill; There were five-and-twenty mourners who had five-and-twenty fights Till the very boldest fighters had their fill. As a Funeral Celebrant, I have created this HUGE collection of poems and readings - see FUNERAL POEMS & READINGS - INDEX. Perhaps an actor is all the rage, He struts his hour on the mimic stage, With skill he interprets all the scenes -- And yet next morning I give him beans. They had rung the sheds of the east and west, Had beaten the cracks of the Walgett side, And the Cooma shearers had given them best -- When they saw them shear, they were satisfied. For the strength of man is an insect's strength In the face of that mighty plain and river, And the life of a man is a moment's length To the life of the stream that will run for ever. and he who sings In accents hopeful, clear, and strong, The glories which that future brings Shall sing, indeed, a wondrous song. The trooper knew that his man would slide Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance; And with half a start on the mountain side Ryan would lead him a merry dance. For faster horses might well be found On racing tracks, or a plain's extent, But few, if any, on broken ground Could see the way that The Swagman went. And that's the story. But they're watching all the ranges till there's not a bird could fly, And I'm fairly worn to pieces with the strife, So I'm taking no more trouble, but I'm going home to die, 'Tis the only way I see to save my life. It was not much! Mulga Bill's Bicycle was written by Banjo Paterson in 1896. Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'. But each man carries to his grave The kisses that in hopes to save The angel or his mother gave. So off they went, And as soon as ever they turned their backs The girl slipped down, on some errand bent Behind the stable and seized an axe. 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! He spoke in a cultured voice and low -- "I fancy they've 'sent the route'; I once was an army man, you know, Though now I'm a drunken brute; But bury me out where the bloodwoods wave, And, if ever you're fairly stuck, Just take and shovel me out of the grave And, maybe, I'll bring you luck. A thirty-foot leap, I declare -- Never a shift in his seat, and he's racing for home like a hare. 'Enter Two Heads.FIRST HEAD: How goes the battle? the whole clan, they raced and they ran, And Abraham proved him an "even time" man, But the goat -- now a speck they could scarce keep their eyes on -- Stretched out in his stride in a style most surprisin' And vanished ere long o'er the distant horizon. * * * * So may it be! The Bushfire - An Allegory 161. But he found the rails on that summer night For a better place -- or worse, As we watched by turns in the flickering light With an old black gin for nurse. Free shipping for many products! And sometimes columns of print appear About a mine, and it makes it clear That the same is all that one's heart could wish -- A dozen ounces to every dish. Run for some other seat,Let the woods hide thee. Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, With sun above and silent veldt below; And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away, And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. So Abraham ran, like a man did he go for him, But the goat made it clear each time he drew near That he had what the racing men call "too much toe" for him. Nothing could conquer that heart of thine. )PUNTER: Nay, good Shortinbras, what thinkest thou of Golumpus?Was it not dead last week?SHORTINBRAS: Marry, sir, I think well of Golumpus. Billy Barlow In Australia Some have even made it into outer space. There are quite a few . 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. To the front -- and then stay there - was ever The root of the Mameluke creed. . A beautiful new edition of the complete poems of A. For he rode at dusk with his comrade Dunn. B. 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. 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. Plenty of swagmen far and near -- And yet to Ryan it meant a lot. A Bush Christening. He gave the mother -- her who died -- A kiss that Christ the Crucified Had sent to greet the weary soul When, worn and faint, it reached its goal. Loafing once beside the river, while he thought his heart would break, There he saw a big goanna fighting with a tiger-snake, In and out they rolled and wriggled, bit each other, heart and soul, Till the valiant old goanna swallowed his opponent whole. Those British pioneers Had best at home abide, For things have changed in fifty years Since Ludwig Leichhardt died. Sure the plan ought to suit yer. 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. Banjo Paterson Poems 151. . Upon the Western slope they stood And saw -- a wide expanse of plain As far as eye could stretch or see Go rolling westward endlessly. `"For you must give the field the slip, So never draw the rein, But keep him moving with the whip, And if he falter - set your lip And rouse him up again. A B Banjo Paterson Follow. "At a pound a hundred it's dashed hard lines To shear such sheep," said the two Devines. May the days to come be as rich in blessing As the days we spent in the auld lang syne. Banjo Paterson Complete Poems. As I lie at rest on a patch of clover In the Western Park when the day is done. 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. But his owner's views of training were immense, For the Reverend Father Riley used to ride him every day, And he never saw a hurdle nor a fence. (That "pal" as I've heard, is an elegant word, Derived from the Persian "Palaykhur" or "Pallaghur"), As the scapegoat strains and tugs at the reins The Rabbi yells rapidly, "Let her go, Gallagher!" Banjo Paterson was an Australian bush author who is remembered for his ballads about life in Australia. )MACPUFF: Now, yield thee, tyrant!By that fourth party which I once did form,I'll take thee to a picnic, there to liveOn windfall oranges!MACBREATH: . Now this was what Macpherson told While waiting in the stand; A reckless rider, over-bold, The only man with hands to hold The rushing Rio Grande. . And the lashin's of the liquor! 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! Cycles were ridden everywhere, including in the outback by shearers and other workers who needed to travel cheaply. Oh, he can jump 'em all right, sir, you make no mistake, 'e's a toff -- Clouts 'em in earnest, too, sometimes; you mind that he don't clout you off -- Don't seem to mind how he hits 'em, his shins is as hard as a nail, Sometimes you'll see the fence shake and the splinters fly up from the rail. Don't you believe it. Even though an adder bit me, back to life again Id float; Snakes are out of date, I tell you, since Ive found the antidote. Said the scientific person, If you really want to die, Go aheadbut, if youre doubtful, let your sheep-dog have a try. make room!" A vision!Thou canst not say I did it! An Emu Hunt 160. Can tell you how Gilbert died. AUSTRALIANS LOVE THAT Andrew Barton 'Banjo' Paterson (1864-1941) found romance in the tough and wiry characters of bush. How go the votes?Enter first voterFIRST VOTER: May it please my Lord,The cherry-pickers' vote is two to oneTowards Macpuff: and all our voters sayThe ghost of Thompson sits in every booth,And talks of pledges.MACBREATH: What a polished liar!And yet the dead can vote! . Follow fast.Exeunt PuntersSCENE IIThe same. J. Dennis. For he rode at dusk with his comrade Dunn To the hut at the Stockman's Ford; In the waning light of the sinking sun They peered with a fierce accord. 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. He munched it all night, and we found him Next morning as full as a hog -- The girths wouldn't nearly meet round him; He looked like an overfed frog. Jan 2011. It is hard to keep sight on him, The sins of the Israelites ride mighty light on him. Catch him now if you can, sir! (Sings)They pulled him barefaced in the mile,Hey, Nonny, Nonny.The Stipes were watching them all the while;And the losers swear, but the winners smile,Hey, Nonny, Nonny.Exit Shortinbras.SECOND RUNTER: A scurvy knave! 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. The bill-sticker's pail told a sorrowful tale, The scapegoat had licked it as dry as a nail; He raced through their houses, and frightened their spouses, But his latest achievement most anger arouses, For while they were searching, and scratching their craniums, One little Ben Ourbed, who looked in the flow'r-bed, Discovered him eating the Rabbi's geraniums. Then if the diver was sighted, pearl-shell and lugger must go -- Joe Nagasaki decided (quick was the word and the blow), Cut both the pipe and the life-line, leaving the diver below! Lift ye your faces to the sky Ye barrier mountains in the west Who lie so peacefully at rest Enshrouded in a haze of blue; 'Tis hard to feel that years went by Before the pioneers broke through Your rocky heights and walls of stone, And made your secrets all their own. Clancy of the Overflow is a poem by Banjo Paterson, first published in The Bulletin, an Australian news magazine, on 21 December 1889. the land But yesterday was all unknown, The wild man's boomerang was thrown Where now great busy cities stand. He turned to an Acolyte who was making his bacca light, A fleet-footed youth who could run like a crack o' light. A Bunch of Roses. Battleaxe, Battleaxe wins! O my friend stout-hearted, What does it matter for rain or shine, For the hopes deferred and the grain departed? This was the way of it, don't you know -- Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep, And never a trooper, high or low, Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep! They started, and the big black steed Came flashing past the stand; All single-handed in the lead He strode along at racing speed, The mighty Rio Grande. See also: Poems by all poets about death and All poems by Banjo Paterson The Angel's Kiss Analysis of this poem An angel stood beside the bed Where lay the living and the dead. The native grasses, tall as grain, Bowed, waved and rippled in the breeze; From boughs of blossom-laden trees The parrots answered back again. Video PDF To Those Whom I love & Those Who Love Me Beautiful remembrance poem, ideal for a funeral reading or eulogy. What meant he by his prateOf Fav'rite and outsider and the like?Forsooth he told us nothing. The drought came down on the field and flock, And never a raindrop fell, Though the tortured moans of the starving stock Might soften a fiend from hell. The freedom, and the hopeful sense Of toil that brought due recompense, Of room for all, has passed away, And lies forgotten with the dead. Ure Smith. the 'orse is all ready -- I wish you'd have rode him before; Nothing like knowing your 'orse, sir, and this chap's a terror to bore; Battleaxe always could pull, and he rushes his fences like fun -- Stands off his jump twenty feet, and then springs like a shot from a gun. [1] The subject of the poem was James Tyson, who had died early that month. And soon it rose on every tongue That Jack Macpherson rode among The creatures of his dream. For you must give the field the slip; So never draw the rein, But keep him moving with the whip, And, if he falter, set your lip And rouse him up again. To all devout Jews! How far did you come last night?" Within our streets men cry for bread In cities built but yesterday. The trooper heard the hoof-beats ring In the stable yard, and he jammed the gate, But The Swagman rose with a mighty spring At the fence, and the trooper fired too late As they raced away, and his shots flew wide, And Ryan no longer need care a rap, For never a horse that was lapped in hide Could catch The Swagman in Conroy's Gap. [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.] "A land where dull Despair is king O'er scentless flowers and songless bird!" For us the roving breezes bring From many a blossum-tufted tree -- Where wild bees murmur dreamily -- The honey-laden breath of Spring. I'll bet half-a-crown on you." A poor little child knocked out stiff in the gutter Proclaimed that the scapegoat was bred for a "butter".