Mustering Song Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CADDEE FFGB HHIIFFJJ KKLLMLNN OOPP QQFF RRGG SSTT| The boss last night in the hut did say | A |
| We start to muster at break of day | A |
| So be up first thing and don't be slow | B |
| Saddle your horses and off you go | B |
| - | |
| So early in the morning so early in the morning | C |
| So early in the morning before the break of day | A |
| Such a night in the yard there never was seen | D |
| The horses were fat and the grass was green | D |
| Bursting of girths and slipping of packs | E |
| As the stockmen saddled the fastest hacks | E |
| - | |
| Across the plain we jog along | F |
| Over gully swamp and billabong | F |
| We dropp on a mob pretty lively too | G |
| We round 'em up and give 'em a slue | B |
| - | |
| Now the scrub grows thick and the cattle are wild | H |
| A regular caution to this 'ere child | H |
| A new chum man on an old chum horse | I |
| Who sails through the scrub as a matter of course | I |
| I was close up stuck in a rotten bog | F |
| I got a buster jumping a log | F |
| I found this scouting rather hot | J |
| So I joined the niggers with the lot we'd got | J |
| - | |
| A long haired shepherd we chanced to meet | K |
| With a water bag billy and dog complete | K |
| He came too close to a knocked up steer | L |
| Who up a sapling made him clear | L |
| Now on every side we faintly hear | M |
| The crack of the stockwhip drawing near | L |
| To the camp the cattle soon converge | N |
| As from the thick scrub they emerge | N |
| - | |
| We hastily comfort the inner man | O |
| With the warm contents of the billy can | O |
| The beef and damper are passed about | P |
| Before we tackle the cutting out | P |
| - | |
| We're at it now that bally calf | Q |
| Would surely make a sick man laugh | Q |
| The silly fool can't take a joke | F |
| I hope some day in the drought he'll croak | F |
| - | |
| We've 'em now the cows and calves | R |
| Things here are never done by halves | R |
| Strangers workers and milkers too | G |
| Of scrubbers also not a few | G |
| - | |
| It's getting late we'd better push | S |
| 'Tis a good long way across the bush | S |
| And the mob to drive are middling hard | T |
| I do not think we'll reach the yard | T |
Banjo Paterson
(1)
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About Mustering Song
Mustering Song is a poem by Banjo Paterson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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