It was splendid; He gained on them yards every bound, Stretching out like a greyhound extended, His girth laid right down on the ground. Between the mountains and the sea Like Israelites with staff in hand, The people waited restlessly: They looked towards the mountains old And saw the sunsets come and go With gorgeous golden afterglow, That made the West a fairyland, And marvelled what that West might be Of which such wondrous tales were told. A Tragedy as Played at Ryde**Macbreath Mr HenleyMacpuff Mr TerryThe GhostACT ITIME: The day before the electionSCENE: A Drummoyne tram running past a lunatic asylum.All present are Reform Leaguers and supporters of Macbreath.They seat themselves in the compartment.MACBREATH: Here, I'll sit in the midst.Be large in mirth. make room! I loudly cried, But right in front they seemed to ride I cursed them in my sleep. Close to the headlands they drifted, picking up shell by the ton, Piled up on deck were the oysters, opening wide in the sun, When, from the lee of the headland, boomed the report of a gun. And yet, not always sad and hard; In cheerful mood and light of heart He told the tale of Britomarte, And wrote the Rhyme of Joyous Garde. `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 that's the story. but they're racing in earnest -- and down goes Recruit on his head, Rolling clean over his boy -- it's a miracle if he ain't dead. A Bush Lawyer. It will cure delirium tremens, when the patients eyeballs stare At imaginary spiders, snakes which really are not there. Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford -- A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell -- Chanced to find him drunk as a lord Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel. The Jockey's PunterHas he put up the stuff, or does he waitTo get a better price. You never heard tell of the story? Three slabs fell out of the stable wall -- 'Twas done 'fore ever the trooper knew -- And Ryan, as soon as he saw them fall, Mounted The Swagman and rushed him through. Fall! 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! 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. Get incredible stories of extraordinary wildlife, enlightening discoveries and stunning destinations, delivered to your inbox. The landscapes and wildlife of the Brindabellas, west of our national capital, provided inspiration for renowned Australian writer Miles Franklin. Mulga Bill's Bicycle was written by Banjo Paterson in 1896. 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! The wild thrush lifts a note of mirth; The bronzewing pigeons call and coo Beside their nests the long day through; The magpie warbles clear and strong A joyous, glad, thanksgiving song, For all God's mercies upon earth. Billy Barlow In Australia Find many great new & used options and get the best deals for Complete Poems (A&R Classics), Paterson, Banjo at the best online prices at eBay! 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. Along where Leichhardt journeyed slow And toiled and starved in vain; These rash excursionists must go Per Queensland railway train. And straightway from the barren coast There came a westward-marching host, That aye and ever onward prest With eager faces to the West, Along the pathway of the sun. and he had fled! Can't somebody stop him? As I lie at rest on a patch of clover In the Western Park when the day is done. Mr. Andrew Barton Paterson, better known throughout Australia as Banjo Paterson, died at a private hospital, in Sydney, yesterday afternoon, after about a fortnights illness. So his Rev'rence in pyjamas trotted softly to the gate And admitted Andy Regan -- and a horse! Banjo Paterson. . Shel Silverstein (223 poem . The Last Straw "A preacher I, and I take my stand In pulpit decked with gown and band To point the way to a better land. With downcast head, and sorrowful tread, The people came back from the desert in dread. Rash men, that know not what they seek, Will find their courage tried. 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. you all Must each bring a stone -- Great sport will be shown; Enormous Attractions! 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!" It was written at a time when cycling was a relatively new and popular social activity. 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. 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! 'Twas a reef with never a fault nor baulk That ran from the range's crest, And the richest mine on the Eaglehawk Is known as "The Swagman's Rest". Credit:Australian War Memorial. Sure the plan ought to suit yer. "Then cut down a couple of saplings,Place one at my head and my toe,Carve on them cross, stockwhip, and saddle,To show there's a stockman below."Hark! * * * * We have our tales of other days, Good tales the northern wanderers tell When bushmen meet and camp-fires blaze, And round the ring of dancing light The great, dark bush with arms of night Folds every hearer in its spell. They were outlaws both -- and on each man's head Was a thousand pounds reward. 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! We strolled down the township and found 'em At drinking and gaming and play; If sorrows they had, why they drowned 'em, And betting was soon under way. 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. 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". (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! 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. Mr. Paterson was a prolific writer of light topical verse. Thinkest thou that both are dead?Re-enter PuntersPUNTER: Good morrow, Gentlemen. 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. . Get a pair of dogs and try it, let the snake give both a nip; Give your dog the snakebite mixture, let the other fellow rip; If he dies and yours survives him, then it proves the thing is good. 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. With the troopers hard behind me I've been hiding all the day In the gullies keeping close and out of sight. 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. Their horses were good uns and fit uns, There was plenty of cash in the town; They backed their own horses like Britons, And, Lord! * * * * So may it be! Go to!Strikes him.Alarms and excursions. But he laughed as he lifted his pistol-hand, And he fired at the rifle-flash. tis the famous antidote. As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee -- Oh! Thus ended a wasted life and hard, Of energies misapplied -- Old Bob was out of the "swagman's yard" And over the Great Divide. 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. 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. Macbreath is struck on the back of the headby some blue metal from Pennant Hills Quarry. Oh, poor Andy went to rest in proper style. And if they have racing hereafter, (And who is to say they will not?) And horse and man Lay quiet side by side! "Come from your prison, Bourke,We Irishmen have done our work,God has been with us, and old Ireland is free. There were fifty horses racing from the graveyard to the pub, And their riders flogged each other all the while. (Strikes him. 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. Bookmakers call: 'Seven to Four on the Field! The Last Parade 153. 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. Nay, rather death!Death before picnic! 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. Lawson almost always wrote as one who travelled afoot - Paterson as one who saw plain and bush from the back of a galloping horse. Embossed with Australian Animals, these premium notebooks are perfect for Back To School. Then he turned to metrical expression, and produced a flamboyant poem about the expedition against the Mahdi, and sent it to The Bulletin, then struggling through its hectic days of youth. That being a Gentile's no mark of gentility, And, according to Samuel, would certainly d--n you well. 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. "Run, Abraham, run! Dustjacket synopsis: "The poetry selected for this collection reveals Paterson's love and appreciation for the Australina bush and its people. [Editor: This poem by "Banjo" Paterson was published in The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, 1895; previously published in The Bulletin, 17 December 1892.It is a story about a barber who plays a practical joke upon an unsuspecting man from the bush. 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. Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet! But old Dame Nature, though scornful, craves Her dole of death and her share of slaughter; Many indeed are the nameless graves Where her victims sleep by the Grey Gulf-water. I'll bet half-a-crown on you." Joe Nagasaki, his "tender", is owner and diver instead. And then I watch with a sickly grin While the patient 'passes his counters in'. 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! . In 1903 Mr. Paterson married Miss Alice Walker, a daughter of the late Mr. W. H. Walker, formerly of Tenterfield, a relative of Mr. Thomas Walker of Yaralla. It was not much, you say, that these Should win their way where none withstood; In sooth there was not much of blood -- No war was fought between the seas. And when they prove it beyond mistake That the world took millions of years to make, And never was built by the seventh day I say in a pained and insulted way that 'Thomas also presumed to doubt', And thus do I rub my opponents out. 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. 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. Then out of the shadows the troopers aimed At his voice and the pistol sound.

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