All Poems

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When I won the Flappers' Flatrace it was "all Sir Garneo",
For she praised the way I made my final run.
And she thought the riding won it -- for how could the poor girl know
That a monkey could have ridden it and won!

The Corner Man

© Andrew Barton Paterson

A small boy sat on the foremost seat --
A mirthful youngster he,
He beat the time with his restless feet
To each new melody,
And he picked me out as the brightest star
Of the black fraternity.

Gilhooley's Estate

© Andrew Barton Paterson

They made out a list of his property fine,
It totalled a thousand-and-eight;
But the debts were nine hundred and ninety-nine --
The debts of Gilhooley's Estate.

Who is Kator Anyhow?

© Andrew Barton Paterson

Not at all! his claim to glory
Rests on quite another story.
All obscure he might have tarried,
But he managed to get married --
And (to cut the matter shorter)
Married William Forster's daughter.

How The Favourite Beat Us

© Andrew Barton Paterson

"It seems old Tomato was stiff, though a starter;
They reckoned him fit for the Caulfield to keep.
The Bloke and the Donah were scratched by their owner,
He only was offered three-fourths of the sweep.

By the Grey Gulf-water

© Andrew Barton Paterson

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;

An answer to Various Bards

© Andrew Barton Paterson

Well, I've waited mighty patient while they all came rolling in,
Mister Lawson, Mister Dyson, and the others of their kin,
With their dreadful, dismal stories of the Overlander's camp,
How his fire is always smoky, and his boots are always damp;

The Scottish Engineer

© Andrew Barton Paterson

With eyes that searched in the dark,
Peering along the line,
Stood the grim Scotsman, Hector Clark,
Driver of "Forty-nine".
And the veldt-fire flamed on the hills ahead,
Like a blood-red beacon sign.

The Scorcher and the Howling Swell

© Andrew Barton Paterson

The Scorcher and the Howling Swell were riding through the land;
They wept like anything to see the hills on every hand;
"If these were only levelled down," they said, "it would be grand."

The Ballad of G. R. Dibbs

© Andrew Barton Paterson

This is the story of G.R.D.,
Who went on a mission across the sea
To borrow some money for you and me.

Sydney Cup 1899

© Andrew Barton Paterson

Of course they say if this Bobadil starts
He'll settle 'em all in a flash:
For the pace he can go will be breaking their hearts,
And he ends with the "Bobadil dash".

Anthony Considine

© Andrew Barton Paterson

They fled together, as those must flee
Whom all men hold in blame;
Each to the other must all things be
Who cross the gulf of iniquity
And live in the land of shame.

The Dam that Keele Built

© Andrew Barton Paterson

This is the dam that Keele built.
This is the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Water and Sewer Brigade,
That measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

T.y.s.o.n.

Across the Queensland border line
The mobs of cattle go;
They travel down in sun and shine
On dusty stage, and slow.

Saltbush Bill's Second Flight

'Twas Saltbush Bill, and his travelling sheep were wending their weary way
On the Main Stock Route, through the Hard Times Run, on their six-mile stage a day;
And he strayed a mile from the Main Stock Route, and started to feed along,
And when Stingy Smith came up Bill said that the Route was surveyed wrong;
And he tried to prove that the sheep had rushed and strayed from their camp at night,
But the fighting man he kicked Bill's dog, and of course that meant a fight.

How M'Ginnis went missing

And his fate is hid for ever,
But the public seem to think
That he slumbered by the river,
'Neath the influence of drink.

Typographical

The Editor wrote his political screed
In ink that was fainter and fainter;
He rose to the call of his country's need,
And in spiderish characters wrote with speed,

The Old Tin Hat

And a very great man is the man who holds an Army Corps command,
For he hurries his regiments here and there as the C. in C. has planned.
By day he travels about in state and stirreth them up to rights,
He toileth early and toileth late, and sitteth up half the nights;
But the evening comes when the candle throws twin shadows upon the mat,
And one of the shadows is like a wreath, and one like an Old Tin Hat.