Here's another snip with an Aussie flavor. If you are from my part of the world you would have heard of Banjo Patterson, Australian wordsmith, who wrote Waltzing Matilda, the song that for a long time was considered our national song if not our anthem by a lot of folk. Also Clancy of the Overflow, one of his best known and loved poems. And I can't leave out The Man from Snowy River.
Oh, if only I possessed a fraction of his mastery with words. His stories told of a time long past, but remembered well. I hope they never fade with time.
A Day to Remember.
Oh yes I remember it well, said the old chap.
The day when he met the great man himself
Get off now his mum said and fetch in the cows,
from the far paddock yonder, behind the race track.
His pony was fair and could go with the breeze.
The cows were all lined up and waiting to move.
Out of the race track a man came a walking,
with stove pipe trousers, and smile on his face.
What a fine looking mount you have there, he said,
and a grand job you're doing in moving the cattle
He walked alongside until they reached the gate.
Where his dad was waiting to eagerly greet them.
My name is Patterson the stranger said then,
extending a hand with a smile and a greeting
Would you perhaps be the great man they call Banjo,
the boy's father asked, then invited him in.
I write a few lines of some poems myself,
for long I've admired your written word, sir
How come you, please tell, by the stories you write?
Pray sit by the table and share food with us.
So Banjo sat down and began to relate.
Well, one day I sat in my usual seat
in a pub in the city where I often would tarry.
Three stockmen were chatting of days in the bush.
One man told a tale of a sure footed pony,
and the day a man rode him with daring and dash
down a hillside so steep from his hooves came flashing
sparks like flint and stones all a crashing.
Back in his office, so dingy and barren,
he sat with his pen in his hand as was usual
He hated this stifling and closed in existence,
but here was the story of Clancy born.
Tell me sir said his father how came you to write
of Matilda and the theft of the jumbuck?
Well would you believe that I happened to hear
on my travels one day of a poor heart sore soul.
This farmer had recently lost his dear wife of a fever.
Her name was Matilda and he mourned for her dearly
One day when his grief became too much to bear
he jumped into a billabong to end all his woes.
Back then in his office, so bored to the eyeballs,
out poured the tale of Matilda a waltzing
The jumbuck and squatters were added along
with the troopers and coolabah and sad little song.
His father never forgot that great day,
when Banjo so great paid them a call
And he too recalled days so grand on his pony,
when life had a sheen and a joy that has passed.
Please spare a few minutes to visit these blogs for more snips and stuff:
http://mizging.blogspot.com (Ginger Simpson)
http://connievines.blogspot.com.au/ Connie Vines
http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ Juliet Waldron
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