Facing it yet! He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist, And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click, Recovered his wits as they turned to go, For fright will sober a man as quick As all the drugs that the doctors know. T.Y.S.O.N. When the field is fairly going, then ye'll see ye've all been fooled, And the chestnut horse will battle with the best. Out on those deserts lone and drear The fierce Australian black Will say -- "You show it pint o' beer, It show you Leichhardt track!" "Run, Abraham, run! `And then I woke, and for a space All nerveless did I seem; For I have ridden many a race, But never one at such a pace As in that fearful dream. Plenty of swagmen far and near -- And yet to Ryan it meant a lot. Alas! 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. 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. No use; all the money was gone. (We haven't his name -- whether Cohen or Harris, he No doubt was the "poisonest" kind of Pharisee.) "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. Follow fast.Exeunt PuntersSCENE IIThe same. But it's harder still, is keeping out of gaol! What of the parents? Lord! Even though an adder bit me, back to life again Id float; Snakes are out of date, I tell you, since Ive found the antidote.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. '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, Till the priest at Kiley's Crossing heard a knocking very late And a whisper "Father Riley -- come across!" 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. B. Paterson, 2008 . The sermon was marked by a deal of humility And pointed the fact, with no end of ability. 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. 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. I'm all of a stew. To the front -- and then stay there - was ever The root of the Mameluke creed. Well, now, I can hardly believe! Of Scottish descent on his father's side,. James Tyson (8 April 1819 - 4 December 1898 . 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. The elderly priest, as he noticed the beast So gallantly making his way to the east, Says he, "From the tents may I never more roam again If that there old billy-goat ain't going home again. And took to drink, and by some good chance Was killed -- thrown out of a stolen trap. And some have said that Nature's face To us is always sad; but these Have never felt the smiling grace Of waving grass and forest trees On sunlit plains as wide as seas. Sit down and ride for your life now! Thus it came to pass that Johnson, having got the tale by rote, Followed every stray goanna, seeking for the antidote. 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. . Mulga Bill's Bicycle was written by Banjo Paterson in 1896. A beautiful new edition of the complete poems of A. Young Andrew spent his formative years living at a station called "Buckenbah' in the western districts of New South Wales. "Yes, I'm making home to mother's, and I'll die o' Tuesday next An' be buried on the Thursday -- and, of course, I'm prepared to meet my penance, but with one thing I'm perplexed And it's -- Father, it's this jewel of a horse! Paterson's . 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. Unnumbered I told them In memories bright, But who could unfold them, Or read them aright? Thy story quickly!MESSENGER: Gracious, my Lord,I should report that which I know I saw,But know not how to do it.MACBREATH: Well! . Next, Please "I am a barrister, wigged and gowned; Of stately presence and look profound. We dug where the cross and the grave posts were, We shovelled away the mould, When sudden a vein of quartz lay bare All gleaming with yellow gold. 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. 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! Jack Thompson: The Sentimental Bloke, The Poems of C . But on his ribs the whalebone stung A madness, sure, it seemed And soon it rose on every tongue That Jack Macpherson rode among The creatures he had dreamed. A shimmer of silk in the cedars As into the running they wheeled, And out flashed the whips on the leaders, For Pardon had collared the field. Ride! Make miniature mechanised minions with teeny tiny tools! 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. Scarce grew the shell in the shallows, rarely a patch could they touch; Always the take was so little, always the labour so much; Always they thought of the Islands held by the lumbering Dutch -- Islands where shell was in plenty lying in passage and bay, Islands where divers could gather hundreds of shell in a day. `And there the phantoms on each side Drew in and blocked his leap; "Make room! Inicio; Servicios. This sentimental work about a drover selling his faithful horse and reminiscing about their days on the land still speaks to people as mechanised transport and the cost of maintaining stock routes sees the very last of the drovers disappearing. Catch him now if you can, sir! Written from the point of view of the person being laid to rest. That was the name of the grandest horse In all the district from east to west; In every show ring, on every course, They always counted The Swagman best. "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! For years the fertile Western plains Were hid behind your sullen walls, Your cliffs and crags and waterfalls All weatherworn with tropic rains. And down along the Monaro now they're starting out to shear, I can picture the excitement and the row; But they'll miss me on the Lachlan when they call the roll this year, For we're going on a long job now. that's a sweet township -- a shindy To them is board, lodging, and sup. Oh, joyous day,To-morrow's poll will make me M.L.A.ACT IITIME: Election day.SCENE: Macbreath's committee rooms.MACBREATH: Bring me no more reports: let them all fly;Till Labour's platform to Kyabram comeI cannot taint with fear. 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. Some of his best-known poems are 'Clancy of the Overflow' and 'Waltzing Matilda.'. 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!" 'Twill sometimes chance when a patient's ill That a doae, or draught, or a lightning pill, A little too strong or a little too hot, Will work its way to a vital spot. Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny, But, really, a young un should know. I Bought a Record and Tape called "Pioneers" by "Wallis and Matilda" a tribute to A.B. 'Tis safer to speak well of the dead: betimes they rise again. [Editor: This poem by "Banjo" Patersonwas published in The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, 1895; previously published in The Bulletin, 24 December 1892.] William Shakespeare (403 poem) 26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616. Grey are the plains where the emus pass Silent and slow, with their dead demeanour; Over the dead man's graves the grass Maybe is waving a trifle greener. 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. 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. Him goin' to ride for us! (The ghost of Thompson disappears, and Macbreath revives himselfwith a great effort. Beyond all denials The stars in their glories, The breeze in the myalls, Are part of these stories. Unnumbered I hold them In memories bright, But who could unfold them, Or read them aright? And that's the story. [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.] 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've come all this distance salvation to win agog, If he takes home our sins, it'll burst up the Synagogue!" 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". As I lie at rest on a patch of clover In the Western Park when the day is done. He neared his home as the east was bright. 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. 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". In 1983 the late country-and-western singer Slim Dustys rendition became the first song to be broadcast to Earth by astronauts. A man once read with mind surprised Of the way that people were "hypnotised"; By waving hands you produced, forsooth, A kind of trance where men told the truth! We have our songs -- not songs of strife And hot blood spilt on sea and land; But lilts that link achievement grand To honest toil and valiant life. Second time round, and, by Jingo! Andrew Barton Paterson was born on the 17th February 1864 in the township of Narambla, New South Wales. Banjo Paterson is one of Australia's best-loved poets and his verse is among Australia's enduring traditions. With sanctimonious and reverent look I read it out of the sacred book That he who would open the golden door Must give his all to the starving poor. Who in the world would have thought it? )There's blood upon thy face.VOTER: 'Tis Thompsons's, then.MACBREATH: Is he thrown out? Kanzo Makame, the diver -- knowing full well what it meant -- Fatalist, gambler, and stoic, smiled a broad smile of content, Flattened in mainsail and foresail, and off to the Islands they went. Get incredible stories of extraordinary wildlife, enlightening discoveries and stunning destinations, delivered to your inbox. 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.
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