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Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, The

<h1> THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER AND OTHER VERSES </h1> <h3> (Second edition) </h3> <h2> by Andrew Barton 'Banjo' Paterson </h2> <h4> [Australian Poet, Reporter — 1864-1941.] </h4> [Note on content: Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson were writing for the Sydney 'Bulletin' in 1892 when Lawson suggested a 'duel' of poetry to increase the number of poems they could sell to the paper. It was apparently entered into in all fun, though there are reports that Lawson was bitter about it later. 'In Defence of the Bush', included in this selection, was one of Paterson's replies to Lawson.] [The 1913 printing (Sydney, Fifty-third Thousand) of the Second Edition (first published in 1902) was used in the preparation of this etext. First edition was first published in 1895.] <h2> THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER AND OTHER VERSES </h2> <h3> by A. B. Paterson ("The Banjo") </h3> <h3> with preface by Rolf Boldrewood </h3> <h2> Preface </h2> It is not so easy to write ballads descriptive of the bushland of Australia as on light consideration would appear. Reasonably good verse on the subject has been supplied in sufficient quantity. But the maker of folksongs for our newborn nation requires a somewhat rare combination of gifts and experiences. Dowered with the poet's heart, he must yet have passed his 'wander-jaehre' amid the stern solitude of the Austral waste — must have ridden the race in the back-block township, guided the reckless stock-horse adown the mountain spur, and followed the night-long moving, spectral-seeming herd 'in the droving days'. Amid such scarce congenial surroundings comes oft that finer sense which renders visible bright gleams of humour, pathos, and romance, which, like undiscovered gold, await the fortunate adventurer. That the author has touched this treasure-trove, not less delicately than distinctly, no true Australian will deny. In my opinion this collection comprises the best bush ballads written since the death of Lindsay Gordon. Rolf Boldrewood A number of these verses are now published for the first time, most of the others were written for and appeared in "The Bulletin" (Sydney, N.S.W.), and are therefore already widely known to readers in Australasia. A. B. Paterson <h2> Prelude </h2> I have gathered these stories afar, In the wind and the rain, In the land where the cattle camps are, On the edge of the plain. On the overland routes of the west, When the watches were long, I have fashioned in earnest and jest These fragments of song. They are just the rude stories one hears In sadness and mirth, The records of wandering years, And scant is their worth Though their merits indeed are but slight, I shall not repine, If they give you one moment's delight, Old comrades of mine. <hr /> <blockquote> <big>CONTENTS</big> Preface Prelude Contents with First Lines: THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER AND OTHER VERSES The Man from Snowy River Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve Clancy of the Overflow Conroy's Gap Our New Horse An Idyll of Dandaloo The Geebung Polo Club The Travelling Post Office Saltbush Bill A Mountain Station Been There Before The Man Who Was Away The Man from Ironbark The Open Steeplechase The Amateur Rider On Kiley's Run Frying Pan's Theology The Two Devines In the Droving Days Lost Over the Range Only a Jockey How M'Ginnis Went Missing A Voice from the Town A Bunch of Roses Black Swans The All Right 'Un The Boss of the 'Admiral Lynch' A Bushman's Song How Gilbert Died The Flying Gang Shearing at Castlereagh The Wind's Message Johnson's Antidote Ambition and Art The Daylight is Dying In Defence of the Bush Last Week Those Names A Bush Christening How the Favourite Beat Us The Great Calamity Come-by-Chance Under the Shadow of Kiley's Hill Jim Carew The Swagman's Rest [From the section of Advertisements at the end of the 1911 printing.] </blockquote> <hr /> <h2> Contents with First Lines: </h2> Prelude I have gathered these stories afar, The Man from Snowy River There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve You never heard tell of the story? Clancy of the Overflow I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Conroy's Gap This was the way of it, don't you know — Our New Horse The boys had come back from the races An Idyll of Dandaloo On Western plains, where shade is not, The Geebung Polo Club It was somewhere up the country, in a land of rock and scrub, The Travelling Post Office The roving breezes come and go, the reed beds sweep and sway, Saltbush Bill Now this is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey, A Mountain Station I bought a run a while ago, Been There Before There came a stranger to Walgett town, The Man Who Was Away The widow sought the lawyer's room with children three in tow, The Man from Ironbark It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town, The Open Steeplechase I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice, The Amateur Rider HIM going to ride for us! HIM — with the pants and the eyeglass and all. On Kiley's Run The roving breezes come and go Frying Pan's Theology Scene: On Monaro. The Two Devines It was shearing-time at the Myall Lake, In the Droving Days 'Only a pound,' said the auctioneer, Lost 'He ought to be home,' said the old man, 'without there's something amiss. Over the Range Little bush maiden, wondering-eyed, Only a Jockey Out in the grey cheerless chill of the morning light, How M'Ginnis Went Missing Let us cease our idle chatter, A Voice from the Town I thought, in the days of the droving, A Bunch of Roses Roses ruddy and roses white, Black Swans As I lie at rest on a patch of clover The All Right 'Un He came from 'further out', The Boss of the 'Admiral Lynch' Did you ever hear tell of Chili? I was readin' the other day A Bushman's Song I'm travellin' down the Castlereagh, and I'm a station hand, How Gilbert Died There's never a stone at the sleeper's head, The Flying Gang I served my time, in the days gone by, Shearing at Castlereagh The bell is set a-ringing, and the engine gives a toot, The Wind's Message There came a whisper down the Bland between the dawn and dark, Johnson's Antidote Down along the Snakebite River, where the overlanders camp, Ambition and Art I am the maid of the lustrous eyes The Daylight is Dying The daylight is dying In Defence of the Bush So you're back from up the country, Mister Townsman, where you went, Last Week Oh, the new-chum went to the back block run, Those Names The shearers sat in the firelight, hearty and hale and strong, A Bush Christening On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few, How the Favourite Beat Us 'Aye,' said the boozer, 'I tell you it's true, sir, The Great Calamity MacFierce'un came to Whiskeyhurst Come-by-Chance As I pondered very weary o'er a volume long and dreary — Under the Shadow of Kiley's Hill This is the place where they all were bred; Jim Carew Born of a thoroughbred English race, The Swagman's Rest We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave <hr /> <h1> THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER AND OTHER VERSES </h1> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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