Famous Poet: Banjo Paterson

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Andrew Barton “Banjo” Paterson: (17 February 1864 – 5 February 1941)
Banjo Paterson was an Australian bush poet, journalist and author. He wrote many ballads and poems about Australian life, focusing particularly on the rural and outback areas, including the district around Binalong, New South Wales, where he spent much of his childhood. Paterson’s more notable poems include “Waltzing Matilda”, “The Man from Snowy River” and “Clancy of the Overflow”.
~~~~~
 # Some of my Favourites by Banjo Paterson pieces:
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Behind the scences

The actor struts his little hour,
Between the limelight and the band;
The public feel the actor’s power,
Yet nothing do they understand
Of all the touches here and there
That make or mar the actor’s part,
They never see, beneath the glare,
The artist striving after art.
To them it seems a labour slight
Where nought of study intervenes;
You see it in another light
When once you’ve been behind the scenes.
For though the actor at his best
Is, like a poet, born not made,
He still must study with a zest
And practise hard to learn his trade.
So, whether on the actor’s form
The stately robes of Hamlet sit,
Or as Macbeth he rave and storm,
Or plays burlesque to please the pit,
‘Tis each and all a work of art,
That constant care and practice means–
The actor who creates a part
Has done his work behind the scenes.
~@~

Sunrise on the Coast

Grey dawn on the sand-hills — the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the call of the morning they scatter and flee.
Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea-fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far over-head — sinking softly to slumber —
Worn out by their watching, the stars fall asleep.
To eastward, where resteth the dome of the skies on
The sea-line, stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying “Let there be light.”
And lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where ’twas now ashen-grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour —
Behold, ’tis that marvel, the birth of a day!
~@~

Old Man Platypus

Far from the trouble and toil of town,
Where the reed beds sweep and shiver,
Look at a fragment of velvet brown —
Old Man Platypus drifting down,
Drifting along the river.
And he plays and dives in the river bends
In a style that is most elusive;
With few relations and fewer friends,
For Old Man Platypus descends
From a family most exclusive.
He shares his burrow beneath the bank
With his wife and his son and daughter
At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank;
And the bubbles show where our hero sank
To its entrance under water.
Safe in their burrow below the falls
They live in a world of wonder,
Where no one visits and no one calls,
They sleep like little brown billiard balls
With their beaks tucked neatly under.
And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl
As he goes on his journey lonely;
For he’s no relation to fish nor fowl,
Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl;
In fact, he’s the one and only!
~ @~

Waltzing Matilda

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah-tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled,
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled,
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”
Down came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong:
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee.
And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker-bag,
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”
And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker-bag,
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”
Up rode a squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred;
Down came the troopers, one, two, three:
“Who’s that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker-bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Who’s that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker-bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!”
Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong;
“You’ll never catch me alive!” said he;
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong,
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!”
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong,
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!
~@~
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