The Fight At Eureka Stockade Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCDD EEFF DDDG DDHH DDDD IIDD DDJJ K LL MMDD DDNN DDDD MMOO DDDD DDPP DDNN DDQQ RRDD DDNN| Was I at Eureka His figure was drawn to a youthful height | A |
| And a flood of proud recollections made the fire in his grey eyes bright | A |
| With pleasure they lighted and glisten'd tho' the digger was grizzled and old | B |
| And we gathered about him and listen'd while the tale of Eureka he told | B |
| - | |
| Ah those were the days said the digger twas a glorious life that we led | C |
| When fortunes were dug up and lost in a day in the whirl of the years that are dead | C |
| But there's many a veteran now in the land old knights of the pick and the spade | D |
| Who could tell you in language far stronger than mine 'bout the fight at Eureka Stockade | D |
| - | |
| We were all of us young on the diggings in days when the nation had birth | E |
| Light hearted and careless and happy and the flower of all nations on earth | E |
| But we would have been peaceful an' quiet if the law had but let us alone | F |
| And the fight let them call it a riot was due to no fault of our own | F |
| - | |
| The creed of our rulers was narrow they ruled with a merciless hand | D |
| For the mark of the cursed broad arrow was deep in the heart of the land | D |
| They treated us worse than the negroes were treated in slavery's day | D |
| And justice was not for the diggers as shown by the Bently affray | G |
| - | |
| P'r'aps Bently was wrong If he wasn't the bloodthirsty villain they said | D |
| He was one of the jackals that gather where the carcass of labour is laid | D |
| 'Twas b'lieved that he murdered a digger and they let him off scot free as well | H |
| And the beacon o' battle was lighted on the night that we burnt his hotel | H |
| - | |
| You may talk as you like but the facts are the same as you've often been told | D |
| And how could we pay when the license cost more than the worth of the gold | D |
| We heard in the sunlight the clanking o' chains in the hillocks of clay | D |
| And our mates they were rounded like cattle an' handcuffed an' driven away | D |
| - | |
| The troopers were most of them new chums with many a gentleman's son | I |
| And ridin' on horseback was easy and hunting the diggers was fun | I |
| Why many poor devils who came from the vessel in rags and down heeled | D |
| Were copped if they hadn't their license before they set foot on the field | D |
| - | |
| But they roused the hot blood that was in us and the cry came to roll up at last | D |
| And I tell you that something had got to be done when the diggers rolled up in the past | D |
| Yet they say that in spite o' the talkin' it all might have ended in smoke | J |
| But just at the point o' the crisis the voice of a quiet man spoke | J |
| - | |
| We have said all our say and it's useless you must fight or be slaves ' said the voice | K |
| If it's fight and you're wanting a leader I will lead to the end take your choice ' | - |
| I looked it was Pete Peter Lalor who stood with his face to the skies | L |
| But his figure seemed nobler and taller and brighter the light of his eyes | L |
| - | |
| The blood to his forehead was rushin' as hot as the words from his mouth | M |
| He had come from the wrongs of the old land to see those same wrongs in the South | M |
| The wrongs that had followed our flight from the land where the life of the worker was spoiled | D |
| Still tyranny followed no wonder the blood of the Irishman boiled | D |
| - | |
| And true to his promise they found him the mates who are vanished or dead | D |
| Who gathered for justice around him with the flag of the diggers o'erhead | D |
| When the people are cold and unb'lieving when the hands of the tyrants are strong | N |
| You must sacrifice life for the people before they'll come down on the wrong | N |
| - | |
| I'd a mate on the diggings a lad curly headed an' blue eyed an' white | D |
| And the diggers said I was his father an' well p'r'aps the diggers were right | D |
| I forbade him to stir from the tent made him swear on the book he'd obey | D |
| But he followed me in in the darkness and was shot on Eureka that day | D |
| - | |
| Down down with the tyrant an' bully ' these were the last words from his mouth | M |
| As he caught up a broken pick handle and struck for the Flag of the South | M |
| An' let it in sorrow be written the worst of this terrible strife | O |
| 'Twas under the Banner of Britain' came the bullet that ended his life | O |
| - | |
| I struck then I struck then for vengeance When I saw him lie dead in the dirt | D |
| And the blood that came oozing like water had darkened the red of his shirt | D |
| I caught up the weapon he dropped an' I struck with the strength of my hate | D |
| Until I fell wounded an' senseless half dead by the side of my mate' | D |
| - | |
| Surprised in the grey o' the morning half armed and the Barricade bad | D |
| A battle o' twenty five minutes was long 'gainst the odds that they had | D |
| But the light o' the morning was deadened an' the smoke drifted far o'er the town | P |
| An' the clay o' Eureka was reddened ere the flag o' the diggers came down | P |
| - | |
| But it rose in the hands of the people an' high in the breezes it tost | D |
| And our mates only died for a cause that was won by the battle they lost | D |
| When the people are selfish and narrow when the hands of the tyrants are strong | N |
| You must sacrifice life for the public before they come down on a wrong | N |
| - | |
| It is thirty six years this December December the first since we made | D |
| The first stand 'gainst the wrongs of old countries that day in Eureka Stockade | D |
| But the lies and the follies and shams of the North have all landed since then | Q |
| An' it's pretty near time that you lifted the flag of Eureka again | Q |
| - | |
| You boast of your progress an' thump empty thunder from out of your drums | R |
| While two of your marvellous cities' are reeking with alleys an' slums | R |
| An' the landsharks an' robbers an' idlers an' Yes I had best draw it mild | D |
| But whenever I think o' Eureka my talking is apt to run wild | D |
| - | |
| Even now in my tent when I'm dreaming I'll spring from my bunk strike a light | D |
| And feel for my boots an' revolver for the diggers' march past in the night | D |
| An' the faces an' forms of old mates an' old comrades go driftin' along | N |
| With a band in the front of 'em playing the tune of an old battle song | N |
Henry Lawson
(1)
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