An Answer To Various Bards Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Well I've waited mighty patient while they all came rolling in	A
Mister Lawson Mister Dyson and the others of their kin	A
With their dreadful dismal stories of the Overlander's camp	B
How his fire is always smoky and his boots are always damp	B
And they paint it so terrific it would fill one's soul with gloom	C
But you know they're fond of writing about corpses and the tomb	C
So before they curse the bushland they should let their fancy range	D
And take something for their livers and be cheerful for a change	D
Now for instance Mr Lawson well of course we almost cried	E
At the sorrowful description how his little 'Arvie died	E
And we lachrymosed in silence when His Father's mate was slain	F
Then he went and killed the father and we had to weep again	G
Ben Duggan and Jack Denver too he caused them to expire	H
After which he cooked the gander of Jack Dunn of Nevertire	H
And no doubt the bush is wretched if you judge it by the groan	I
Of the sad and soulful poet with a graveyard of his own	I
	-
And he spoke in terms prophetic of a revolution's heat	J
When the world should hear the clamour of those people in the street	J
But the shearer chaps who start it why he rounds on them the blame	K
And he calls 'em agitators who are living on the game	K
Bur I over write the bushmen Well I own without a doubt	L
That I always see the hero in the man from furthest out	L
I could never contemplate him through an atmosphere of gloom	C
And a bushman never struck me as a subject for the tomb	C
	-
If it ain't all golden sunshine where the wattle branches wave	M
Well it ain't all damp and dismal and it ain't all lonely grave	M
And of course there's no denying that the bushman's life is rough	N
But a man can easy stand it if he's built of sterling stuff	N
Though it's seldom that the drover gets a bed of eiderdown	I
Yet the man who's born a bushman he gets mighty sick of town	I
For he's jotting down the figures and he's adding up the bills	O
While his heart is simply aching for a sight of Southern hills	O
	-
Then he hears a wool team passing with a rumble and a lurch	P
And although the work is pressing yet it brings him off his perch	P
For it stirs him like a message from his station friends afar	H
And he seems to sniff the ranges in the scent of wool and tar	H
And it takes him back in fancy half in laughter half in tears	Q
to a sound of other voices and a thought of other years	R
When the woolshed rang with bustle from the dawning of the day	S
And the shear blades were a clicking to the cry of Wool away	S
	-
Then his face was somewhat browner and his frame was firmer set	T
And he feels his flabby muscles with a feeling of regret	T
But the wool team slowly passes and his eyes go slowly back	U
To the dusty little table and the papers in the rack	U
And his thoughts go to the terrace where his sickly children squall	V
And he thinks there's something healthy in the bush life after all	V
But we'll go no more a droving in the wind or in the sun	I
For out fathers' hearts have failed us and the droving days are done	I
	-
There's a nasty dash of danger where the long horned bullock wheels	W
And we like to live in comfort and to get our reg'lar meals	W
For to hang around the township suits us better you'll agree	H
And a job at washing bottles is the job for such as we	H
Let us herd into the cities let us crush and crowd and push	X
Till we lose the love of roving and we learn to hate the bush	X
And we'll turn our aspirations to a city life and beer	H
And we'll slip across to England it's a nicer place than here	H
	-
For there's not much risk of hardship where all comforts are in store	H
And the theatres are in plenty and the pubs are more and more	H
But that ends it Mr Lawson and it's time to say good bye	Y
So we must agree to differ in all friendship you and I	Y
Yes we'll work our own salvation with the stoutest hearts we may	S
And if fortune only favours we will take the road some day	S
And go droving down the river 'neath the sunshine and the stars	Z
And then return to Sydney and vermilionize the bars	Z

Banjo Paterson (andrew Barton)

An Answer To Various Bards Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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