In Answer To "banjo," And Otherwise. (the City Bushman) Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Part of The Bush Controversy	A
	-
	-
It was pleasant up the country Mr Banjo where you went	B
For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent	B
And you curse the trains and 'busses and the turmoil and the push	C
Tho' you know the squalid city needn't keep you from the bush	C
But we lately heard you singing of the plains where shade is not	D
And you mentioned it was dusty all is dry and all is hot	D
	-
True the bush hath moods and changes and the bushman hath 'em too	E
For he's not a poet's dummy he's a man the same as you	E
But his back is growing rounder slaving for the absentee	A
And his toiling wife is thinner than a country wife should be	A
For he noticed that the faces of the folks we chanerd to meet	F
Should have made a greater contrast to the faces in the street	F
And in short we think the bushman's being driven to the wall	G
But it's doubtful if his spirit will be loyal thro' it all	G
	-
Tho' the bush has been romantic and it's nice to sing about	H
There's a lot of patriotism that the land could do without	H
Sort of BRITISH WORKMAN nonsense that shall perish in the scorn	I
Of the drover who is driven and the shearer who is shorn	I
Of the struggling western farmers who have little time for rest	J
And are ruin'd on selections in the squatter ridden west	J
Droving songs are very pretty but they merit little thanks	K
From the people of a country which is ridden by the Banks	K
	-
And the rise and fall of seasons suits the rise and fall of rhyme	L
But we know that western seasons do not run on schedule time	L
For the drought will go on drying while there's anything to dry	M
Then it rains until you'd fancy it would bleach the sunny sky	M
Then it pelters out of reason for the downpour day and night	N
Nearly sweeps the population to the Great Australian Bight	N
It is up in Northern Queensland that the seasons do their best	J
But its doubtful if you ever saw a season in the west	J
There are years without an autumn or a winter or a spring	O
There are broiling Junes and summers when it rains like anything	O
	-
In the bush my ears were opened to the singing of the bird	P
But the carol of the magpie was a thing I never heard	P
Once the beggar roused my slumbers in a shanty it is true	E
But I only heard him asking Who the blanky blank are you	E
And the bell bird in the ranges but his silver chime is harsh	Q
When it's heard beside the solo of the curlew in the marsh	Q
	-
Yes I heard the shearers singing William Riley out of tune	R
Saw 'em fighting round a shanty on a Sunday afternoon	R
But the bushman isn't always trapping brumbies in the night	N
Nor is he for ever riding when the morn is fresh and bright	N
And he isn't always singing in the humpies on the run	S
And the camp fire's cheery blazes are a trifle overdone	S
We have grumbled with the bushmen round the fire on rainy days	T
When the smoke would blind a bullock and there wasn't any blaze	T
Save the blazes of our language for we cursed the fire in turn	U
Till the atmosphere was heated and the wood began to burn	U
Then we had to wring our blueys which were rotting in the swags	T
And we saw the sugar leaking thro' the bottoms of the bags	T
And we couldn't raise a chorus for the toothache and the cramp	V
While we spent the hours of darkness draining puddles round the camp	V
	-
Would you like to change with Clancy go a droving tell us true	E
For we rather think that Clancy would be glad to change with you	E
And be something in the city but 'twould give your muse a shock	W
To be losing time and money thro' the foot rot in the flock	W
And you wouldn't mind the beauties underneath the starry dome	X
If you had a wife and children and a lot of bills at home	X
	-
Did you ever guard the cattle when the night was inky black	Y
And it rained and icy water trickled gently down your back	Y
Till your saddle weary backbone fell a aching to the roots	T
And you almost felt the croaking or the bull frog in your boots	T
Sit and shiver in the saddle curse the restless stock and cough	Z
Till a squatter's irate dummy cantered up to warn you off	A2
Did you fighy the drought and pleuro when the seasons were asleep	B2
Falling she oaks all the morning for a flock of starving sheep	B2
Drinking mud instead of water climbing trees and lopping boughs	T
For the broken hearted bullocks and the dry and dusty cows	T
	-
Do you think the bush was better in the good old droving days	T
When the squatter ruled supremely as the king of western ways	T
When you pot a slip of paper for the little you could earn	U
But were forced to take provisions from the station in return	U
When you couldn't keep a chicken at your humpy on the run	S
For the squatter wouldn't let you and your work was never done	S
When you had to leave the missus in a lonely hut forlorn	I
While you rose up Willy Riley in the days ere you were born	I
	-
Ah we read about the drovers and the shearers and the like	C2
Till we wonder why such happy and romantic fellows strike	C2
Don't you fancy that the poets better give the bush a rest	J
Ere they raise a just rebellion in the over written West	J
Where the simple minded bushman gets a meal and bed and rum	D2
Just by riding round reporting phantom flocks that never come	D2
Where the scalper never troubled by the war whoop of the push	C
Has a quiet little billet breeding rabbits in the bush	C
Where the idle shanty keeper never fails to make a draw	E2
And the dummy gets his tucker thro' provisions in the law	E2
Where the labour agitator when the shearers rise in might	N
Makes his money sacrificing all his substance for the right	N
Where the squatter makes his fortune and the seasons rise and fall	G
And the poor and honest bushman has to suffer for it all	G
Where the drovers and the shearers and the bushmen and the rest	J
Never reach the Eldorado of the poets of the West	J
	-
And you think the bush is purer and that life is better there	F2
But it doesn't seem to pay you like the squalid street and square	F2
Pray inform us Mr Banjo where you read in prose or verse	T
Of the awful city urchin who would greet you with a curse	T
There are golden hearts in gutters tho' their owners lack the fat	G2
And we'll back a teamster's offspring to outswear a city brat	G2
Do you think we're never jolly where the trams and 'busses rage	H2
Did you hear the gods in chorus when Ri tooral held the stage	H2
Did you catch a ring of sorrow in the city urchin's voice	T
When he yelled for Billy Elton when he thumped the floor for Royce	T
Do the bushmen down on pleasure miss the everlasting stars	T
When they drink and flirt and so on in the glow of private bars	T
What care you if fallen woman flaunt God help 'em let 'em flaunt	I2
And the seamstress seems to haunt you to what purpose does she haunt	I2
You've a down on trams and busses or the roar of 'em you said	J2
And the filthy dirty attic where you never toiled for bread	J2
And about that self same attic tell us Banjo where you've been	K2
For the struggling needlewoman mostly keeps her attic clean	L2
But you'll find it very jolly with the cuff and collar push	C
And the city seems to suit you while you rave about the bush	C
	-
HENRY LAWSON	S
	-
P S	T
You'll admit that up the country more especially in drought	H
Isn't quite the Eldorado that the poets rave about	H
Yet at times we long to gallop where the reckless bushman rides	T
In the wake of startled brumbies that are flying for their hides	T
And to feel the saddle tremble once again between our knees	T
And to hear the stockwhips rattle just like rifles in the trees	T
And to feel the bridle leather tugging strongly in the hand	M2
And to feel once more a little like a native of the land	M2
And the ring of bitter feeling in the jingling of our rhymes	T
Isn't suited to the country nor the spirit of the times	T
Let us go together droving and returning if we live	N2
Try to understand each other while we liquor up the div	N2
	-
H L	O2

Henry Lawson

In Answer To "banjo," And Otherwise. (the City Bushman) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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