The Green-hand Rouseabout Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD EEFFGG HHBBHHIIBBII IIJJII KKLLJJ BB II MM| Call this hot I beg your pardon Hot you don t know what it means | A |
| What s that waiter lamb or mutton Thank you mine is beef and greens | A |
| Bread and butter while I m waiting Milk Oh yes a bucketful | B |
| I m just in from west the Darling picking up and rolling wool | B |
| Mutton stewed or chops for breakfast dry and tasteless boiled in fat | C |
| Bread or brownie tea or coffee two hours graft in front of that | C |
| Legs of mutton boiled for dinner mutton greasy warm for tea | D |
| Mutton curried gave my order beef and plenty greens for me | D |
| - | |
| Breakfast curried rice and mutton till your innards sacrifice | E |
| And you sicken at the colour and the smell of curried rice | E |
| All day long with living mutton bits and belly wool and fleece | F |
| Blinded by the yoke of wool and shirt and trousers stiff with grease | F |
| Till you long for sight of verdure cabbage plots and water clear | G |
| And you crave for beef and butter as a boozer craves for beer | G |
| - | |
| - | |
| Dusty patch in baking mulga glaring iron hut and shed | H |
| Feel and smell of rain forgotten water scarce and feed grass dead | H |
| Hot and suffocating sunrise all pervading sheep yard smell | B |
| Stiff and aching green hand stretches Slushy rings the bullock bell | B |
| Pint of tea and hunk of brownie sinners string towards the shed | H |
| Great black greasy crows round carcass screen behind of dust cloud red | H |
| Engine whistles Go it tigers and the agony begins | I |
| Picking up for seven devils out of Hades for my sins | I |
| Picking up for seven devils seven demons out of Hell | B |
| Sell their souls to get the bell sheep half a dozen Christs they d sell | B |
| Day grows hot as where they come from too damned hot for men or brutes | I |
| Roof of corrugated iron six foot six above the shoots | I |
| - | |
| Whiz and rattle and vibration like an endless chain of trams | I |
| Blasphemy of five and forty prickly heat and stink of rams | I |
| Barcoo leaves his pen door open and the sheep come bucking out | J |
| When the rouser goes to pen them Barcoo blasts the rouseabout | J |
| Injury with insult added trial of our cursing powers | I |
| Cursed and cursing back enough to damn a dozen worlds like ours | I |
| - | |
| Take my combs down to the grinder will yer Seen my cattle pup | K |
| There s a sheep fell down in my shoot just jump down and pick it up | K |
| Give the office when the boss comes Catch that gory sheep old man | L |
| Count the sheep in my pen will yer Fetch my combs back when yer can | L |
| When yer get a chance old feller will yer pop down to the hut | J |
| Fetch my pipe the cook ll show yer and I ll let yer have a cut | J |
| - | |
| Shearer yells for tar and needle Ringer s roaring like a bull | B |
| Wool away you son of angels Where the hell s the foundling WOOL | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| Pound a week and station prices mustn t kick against the pricks | I |
| Seven weeks of lurid mateship ruined soul and four pounds six | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| What s that waiter me stuffed mutton Look here waiter to be brief | M |
| I said beef you blood stained villain Beef moo cow Roast Bullock BEEF | M |
Henry Lawson
(1)
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