All Poems

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Wargeilah town is very small,
There's no cathedral nor a club,
In fact the township, all in all,
Is just one unpretentious pub;
And there, from all the stations round,
The local sportsmen can be found.

Swinging the Lead

© Andrew Barton Paterson

"And my legs have swelled up cruel, I can hardly walk at all,
Bur when the Taubes come over you should see me start to crawl;
When we're sprinting for the dugout, I can easy beat 'em all".
And the Surgeon said,
"That's Lead!"

A Singer of the Bush

© Andrew Barton Paterson

There is waving of grass in the breeze
And a song in the air,
And a murmur of myriad bees
That toil everywhere.

Father Riley's Horse

© Andrew Barton Paterson

'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,

When Dacey rode the Mule

© Andrew Barton Paterson

The band struck up with Killaloe,
And Rule Britannia, Rule,
And Young Man from the Country, too,
When Dacey rode the mule.

Investigating Flora

© Andrew Barton Paterson

'Twas in scientific circles
That the great Professor Brown
Had a world-wide reputation
As a writer of renown.

A Mountain Station

© Andrew Barton Paterson

I bought a run a while ago,
On country rough and ridgy,
Where wallaroos and wombats grow --
The Upper Murrumbidgee.

High Explosive

© Andrew Barton Paterson

'Twas the dingo pup to his dam that said,
"It's time I worked for my daily bread.
Out in the world I intend to go,
And you'd be surprised at the things I know.

Do They Know?

© Andrew Barton Paterson

Do they know? At the turn to the straight
Where the favourites fail,
And every last atom of weight
Is telling its tale;

Why the Jackass Laughs

© Andrew Barton Paterson

The Bee-birds over the homestead flew
And told each other the long day through
"The cold has come, we must take the track."
"Now, I'll make you a bet," said the Laughing Jack,
"Of a hundred mice, that you dare not go
With the little Bee-birds, by Boastful Crow."

Been There Before

© Andrew Barton Paterson

He knew that the river from bank to bank
Was fifty yards, and he smiled a smile
As he trundled down; but his hopes they sank,
For there wasnt a stone within fifty mile;
For the saltbush plain and the open down
Produce no quarries in Walgett town.

Australia Today 1916

© Andrew Barton Paterson

On the western stations, far and wide,
There's many an empty pen,
For the "ringers" have cast the machines aside
And answered the call for men.

Our New Horse

© Andrew Barton Paterson

The boys had come back from the races
All silent and down on their luck;
They'd backed 'em, straight out and for places,
But never a winner they's struck.

A Dream of the Melbourne Cup

© Andrew Barton Paterson

Bring me a quart of colonial beer
And some doughy damper to make good cheer,
I must make a heavy dinner;
Heavily dine and heavily sup,

The Duties of an Aide-de-camp

Then they grab at his paw
And they chatter and jaw
Till they'd talk him to death -- if we'd let 'em --
And the folk he has met,
They are all in a fret,
Just for fear he might chance to forget 'em.

White Cockatoos

Now the autumn maize is growing,
Now the corn-cob fills,
Where the Little River flowing
Winds among the hills.

The Last Parade

With never a sound of trumpet,
With never a flag displayed,
The last of the old campaigners
Lined up for the last parade.

In the Droving Days

"Only a pound," said the auctioneer,
"Only a pound; and I'm standing here
Selling this animal, gain or loss --
Only a pound for the drover's horse?

The Incantation

Scene: Federal Political Arena
A darkened cave. In the middle, a cauldron, boiling.
Enter the three witches.
1ST WITCH: Thrice hath the Federal Jackass brayed.

The Daylight is Dying

And, blending with each
In the memories that throng,
There haply shall reach
You some echo of song.