An Answer To Various Bards Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFGHHII JJKKLLCC MMNNIIOO PPHHQRSS TTUUVVII WWHHXXHH HHYYSSZZWell 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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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
(1)
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