Is Thompson out?VOTER: My lord, his name is mud. Out on those deserts lone and drear The fierce Australian black Will say -- "You show it pint o' beer, It show you Leichhardt track!" "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. Conroy's Gap 154. In 2004 a representative of The Wilderness Society arrived at NSWs Parliament House dressed as The Ghost of the Man from Ironbark, to campaign for the protection of the remaining Ironbark woodlands in New South Wales and Queensland. 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. Captain Andrew Barton Banjo Paterson (Right) of 2nd Remounts, Australian Imperial Force in Egypt. [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.] (They fight. -- Still, there may be a chance for one; I'll stop and I'll fight with the pistol here, You take to your heels and run." )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: . 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. Run for some other seat,Let the woods hide thee. ')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. From 1903 to 1906 he was editor of the Evening News, in Sydney, and subsequently editor of the Town and Country Journal for a couple of years. Poems For Funerals by Paul Kelly, Noni Hazlehurst & Jack Thompson, released 01 December 2013 1. 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. Jack Thompson: The Sentimental Bloke, The Poems of C . And that's the story. To the front -- and then stay there - was ever The root of the Mameluke creed. make room! I loudly cried, But right in front they seemed to ride I cursed them in my sleep. T.Y.S.O.N. - Wikipedia that's a sweet township -- a shindy To them is board, lodging, and sup. Down along the Mooki River, on the overlanders camp, Where the serpents are in millions, all of the most deadly stamp, Wanders, daily, William Johnson, down among those poisonous hordes, Shooting every stray goanna, calls them black and yaller frauds. May the days to come be as rich in blessing As the days we spent in the auld lang syne. He won it, and ran it much faster Than even the first, I believe; Oh, he was the daddy, the master, Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve. On Banjo Patersons 150th birthday anniversary, here are his best ballads. A thirty-foot leap, I declare -- Never a shift in his seat, and he's racing for home like a hare. 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! But daring men from Britain's shore, The fearless bulldog breed, Renew the fearful task once more, Determined to succeed. 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. 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. 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! We were objects of mirth and derision To folks in the lawn and the stand, Anf the yells of the clever division Of "Any price Pardon!" And up went my hat in the air! 'Twas a wether flock that had come to hand, Great struggling brutes, that shearers shirk, For the fleece was filled with the grass and sand, And seventy sheep was a big day's work. Their rifles stood at the stretcher head, Their bridles lay to hand; They wakened the old man out of his bed, When they heard the sharp command: "In the name of the Queen lay down your arms, Now, Dun and Gilbert, stand!" The Stockman 163. 'Tis strange that in a land so strong So strong and bold in mighty youth, We have no poet's voice of truth To sing for us a wondrous song. Of Scottish descent on his father's side,. Pablo Neruda (143 poem) 12 July 1904 - 23 September 1973. T.Y.S.O.N. did you see how he struck, and the swell never moved in his seat? "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.". Mr. Andrew Barton Paterson, better known throughout Australia as "Banjo" Paterson, died at a private hospital, in Sydney, yesterday afternoon, after about a fortnight's illness. Unnumbered I hold them In memories bright, But who could unfold them, Or read them aright? Make room for Rio Grande! Hes down! There was a girl in that shanty bar Went by the name of Kate Carew, Quiet and shy as the bush girls are, But ready-witted and plucky, too. 'Tis safer to speak well of the dead: betimes they rise again. 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. Had anyone heard of him?" Make miniature mechanised minions with teeny tiny tools! Macbreath is struck on the back of the headby some blue metal from Pennant Hills Quarry. (Banjo) Paterson A. Banjo Paterson Complete Poems - Google Play 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! I spurred him on to get the lead, n I chanced full many a fall; But swifter still each phantom steed Kept with me, and at racing speed We reached the big stone wall. Remember, no matter how far you may roam That dogs, goats, and chickens, it's simply the dickens, Their talent stupendous for "getting back home". But maybe you're only a Johnnie And don't know a horse from a hoe? Mr. Paterson was a prolific writer of light topical verse. The Reverend Mullineux 155. . Didst not sayTo back Golumpus or the Favourite!SHORTINBRAS: Get work! 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. Banjo Paterson - Banjo Paterson Poems | Best Poems Fearful that the contribution might be identified as the work of the pamphleteer, he signed it the Banjo. It was published, and a note came asking him to call. Oh, poor Andy went to rest in proper style. Never heard of the honour and glory Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? why, he'd fall off a cart, let alone off a steeplechase horse. 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. Missing a bursary tenable at the University, he entered a solicitors office, eventually qualified, and practised until 1900 in partnership with Mr. William Street, a brother of the former Chief Justice. "Well, no sir, he ain't not exactly dead, But as good as dead," said the eldest son -- "And we couldn't bear such a chance to lose, So we came straight back to tackle the ewes." The day it has come, with trumpet and drum. "On came the Saxons thenFighting our Fenian men,Soon they'll reel back from our piked volunteers.Loud was the fight and shrill,Wexford and Vinegar Hill,Three cheers for Father Murphy and the bold cavaliers.I dreamt that I saw our gallant commanderSeated on his charger in gorgeous array.He wore green trimmed with gold and a bright shining sabreOn which sunbeams of Liberty shone brightly that day. The Bush Poems of A. B. (Banjo) Paterson - AustLit The way is won! 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. A Bush Christening. 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. Those British pioneers Had best at home abide, For things have changed in fifty years Since Ludwig Leichhardt died. And lo, a miracle! 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. But they never started training till the sun was on the course For a superstitious story kept 'em back, That the ghost of Andy Regan on a slashing chestnut horse, Had been training by the starlight on the track. I loudly cried, But right in front they seemed to ride - I cursed them in my sleep. Alas! Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet -- and it's Battleaxe wins for a crown; Look at him rushing the fences, he wants to bring t'other chap down. 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. Discover the many layers to this legendary Australian character yourself at the exhibition which is open seven days a week from 9am to 3pm thanks . In fact I should think he was one of their weediest: 'Tis a rule that obtains, no matter who reigns, When making a sacrifice, offer the seediest; Which accounts for a theory known to my hearers Who live in the wild by the wattle beguiled, That a "stag" makes quite good enough mutton for shearers. "Well, you're back right sudden,"the super said; "Is the old man dead and the funeral done?" Cycles were ridden everywhere, including in the outback by shearers and other workers who needed to travel cheaply. The scapegoat is leading a furlong or more, And Abraham's tiring -- I'll lay six to four! But the shearers knew that they's make a cheque When they came to deal with the station ewes; They were bare of belly and bare of neck With a fleece as light as a kangaroo's. 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. 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. O ye wild black swans, 'twere a world of wonder For a while to join in your westward flight, With the stars above and the dim earth under, Trough the cooling air of the glorious night. 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. This never will do. We cannot love the restless sea, That rolls and tosses to and fro Like some fierce creature in its glee; For human weal or human woe It has no touch of sympathy. * Oh, the steeple was a caution! A word let fall Gave him the hint as the girl passed by; Nothing but "Swagman -- stable wall; Go to the stable and mind your eye." Make room for Rio Grande!' In the happy days to be, Men of every clime and nation will be round to gaze on me Scientific men in thousands, men of mark and men of note, Rushing down the Mooki River, after Johnsons antidote. Go back it, back it! 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". 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. Ride! by Banjo Paterson, From book: Saltbush Bill, J.P. and Other . The Bushfire - An Allegory 161. Him goin' to ride for us! . 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. * * Yessir! Poems For Funerals | Paul Kelly, Noni Hazlehurst & Jack Thompson | Jack Don't tell me he can ride. It follows a mountainous horseback pursuit to recapture the colt of a prize-winning racehorse living with brumbies. Rash men, that know not what they seek, Will find their courage tried. `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.' and his spurs like a pair of harpoons; Ought to be under the Dog Act, he ought, and be kept off the course. The meaning of various words within the poem are given in the "Editor's notes" section at the end.] And that was the end of this small romance, The end of the story of Conroy's Gap. And it's what's the need of schoolin' or of workin' on the track, Whin the saints are there to guide him round the course! Paterson's . "On," was the battle cry,"Conquer this day or die,Sons of Hibernia, fight for Liberty!Show neither fear nor dread,Strike at the foeman's head,Cut down horse, foot, and artillery! Next, Please "I am a barrister, wigged and gowned; Of stately presence and look profound. A.B. Nothing could conquer that heart of thine. 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. 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." (Tries to shuffle off, but Punter detains him. I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better. Banjo Paterson, original name Andrew Barton Paterson, (born February 17, 1864, Narrambla, New South Wales, Australiadied February 5, 1941, Sydney), Australian poet and journalist noted for his composition of the internationally famous song " Waltzing Matilda ." "Come from your prison, Bourke,We Irishmen have done our work,God has been with us, and old Ireland is free. In 1983 the late country-and-western singer Slim Dustys rendition became the first song to be broadcast to Earth by astronauts. Jan 2011. "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. That I did for himI paid my shilling and I cast my vote.MACBREATH: Thou art the best of all the shilling voters.Prithee, be near me on election dayTo see me smite Macpuff, and now we shan'tBe long,(Ghost of Thompson appears. Down in the world where men toil and spin Dame Nature smiles as man's hand has taught her; Only the dead men her smiles can win In the great lone land by the Grey Gulf-water. These are the risks of the pearling -- these are the ways of Japan; "Plenty more Japanee diver plenty more little brown man!". Don't hope it -- the slinking hound, He sloped across to the Queensland side, And sold The Swagman for fifty pound, And stole the money, and more beside. James Tyson (8 April 1819 - 4 December 1898 . The Bush Poems of A . So he went and fetched his canine, hauled him forward by the throat. Shel Silverstein (223 poem . Joe Nagasaki, the "tender", smiling a sanctified smile, Headed her straight for the gunboat--throwing out shells all the while -- Then went aboard and reported, "No makee dive in three mile! With dragging footsteps and downcast head The hypnotiser went home to bed, And since that very successful test He has given the magic art a rest; Had he tried the ladies, and worked it right, What curious tales might have come to light! The mountains saw them marching by: They faced the all-consuming drought, They would not rest in settled land: But, taking each his life in hand, Their faces ever westward bent Beyond the farthest settlement, Responding to the challenge cry of "better country farther out". Banjo Paterson - Wikipedia Fearless he was beyond credence, looking at death eye to eye: This was his formula always, "All man go dead by and by -- S'posing time come no can help it -- s'pose time no come, then no die."
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