The Broken-down Squatter Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCEFDF D DFGF DHIJ KFLF F MDNDOPQP F PRSRDFTF F| Air It's a fine hunting day | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Come Stumpy old man we must shift while we can | B |
| All our mates in the paddock are dead | C |
| Let us wave our farewells to Glen Eva's sweet dells | D |
| And the hills where your lordship was bred | C |
| Together to roam from our drought stricken home | E |
| It seems hard that such things have to be | F |
| And its hard on a hogs when he's nought for a boss | D |
| But a broken down squatter like me | F |
| - | |
| Chorus | D |
| - | |
| For the banks are all broken they say | D |
| And the merchants are all up a tree | F |
| When the bigwigs are brought to the Bankruptcy Court | G |
| What chance for a squatter like me | F |
| - | |
| No more shall we muster the river for fats | D |
| Or spiel on the Fifteen mile plain | H |
| Or rip through the scrub by the light of the moon | I |
| Or see the old stockyard again | J |
| - | |
| Leave the slip panels down it won't matter much now | K |
| There are none but the crows left to see | F |
| Perching gaunt in yon pine as though longing to dine | L |
| On a broken down squatter like me | F |
| - | |
| Chorus For the banks c | F |
| - | |
| When the country was cursed with the drought at its worst | M |
| And the cattle were dying in scores | D |
| Though down on my luck I kept up my pluck | N |
| Thinking justice might temper the laws | D |
| But the farce has been played and the Government aid | O |
| Ain't extended to squatters old son | P |
| When my dollars were spent they doubled the rent | Q |
| And resumed the best half of the run | P |
| - | |
| Chorus For the banks c | F |
| - | |
| 'Twas done without reason for leaving the season | P |
| No squatter could stand such a rub | R |
| For it's useless to squat when the rents are so hot | S |
| That one can't save the price of one's grub | R |
| And there's not much to choose 'twixt the banks and the Jews | D |
| Once a fellow gets put up a tree | F |
| No odds what I feel there's no court of appeal | T |
| For a broken down squatter like me | F |
| - | |
| Chorus For the banks c | F |
Banjo Paterson (andrew Barton)
(1)
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About The Broken-down Squatter
The Broken-down Squatter is a poem by Banjo Paterson (andrew Barton). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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