In Defence of the Bush

by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went,
And you're cursing all the business in a bitter discontent;
Well, we grieve to disappoint you, and it makes us sad to hear
That it wasn't cool and shady -- and there wasn't plenty beer,
And the loony bullock snorted when you first came into view;
Well, you know it's not so often that he sees a swell like you;

Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson

And the roads were hot and dusty, and the plains were burnt and brown,
And no doubt you're better suited drinking lemon-squash in town.

Yet, perchance, if you should journey down the very track you went
In a month or two at furthest you would wonder what it meant,
Where the sunbaked earth was gasping like a creature in its pain
You would find the grasses waving like a field of summer grain,
And the miles of thirsty gutters blocked with sand and choked with mud,
You would find them mighty rivers with a turbid, sweeping flood;
For the rain and drought and sunshine make no changes in the street,
In the sullen line of buildings and the ceaseless tramp of feet;
But the bush hath moods and changes, as the seasons rise and fall,
And the men who know the bush-land -- they are loyal through it all.

But you found the bush was dismal and a land of no delight,
Did you chance to hear a chorus in the shearers' huts at night?
Did they "rise up, William Riley" by the camp-fire's cheery blaze?
Did they rise him as we rose him in the good old droving days?
And the women of the homesteads and the men you chanced to meet --
Were their faces sour and saddened like the "faces in the street",
And the "shy selector children" -- were they better now or worse
Than the little city urchins who would greet you with a curse?
Is not such a life much better than the squalid street and square
Where the fallen women flaunt it in the fierce electric glare,
Where the sempstress plies her sewing till her eyes are sore and red
In a filthy, dirty attic toiling on for daily bread?
Did you hear no sweeter voices in the music of the bush
Than the roar of trams and 'buses, and the war-whoop of "the push"?
Did the magpies rouse your slumbers with their carol sweet and strange?
Did you hear the silver chiming of the bell-birds on the range?
But, perchance, the wild birds' music by your senses was despised,
For you say you'll stay in townships till the bush is civilised.
Would you make it a tea-garden and on Sundays have a band
Where the "blokes" might take their "donahs", with a "public" close at hand?
You had better stick to Sydney and make merry with the "push",
For the bush will never suit you, and you'll never suit the bush.

by Pro Hart

Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson were  the "duelling poets" in these poems (Up the Country and In Defence of the Bush) pitting the Australian Bush against the City Life! I have always enjoyed the works of both poets and love this little spar between them. It is amazing that two of our greatest poets wrote at around the same time and give us an wonderful glimpse into our country at this time. These poems were published in 1892.

While "The Banjo" portrays quite a romantic view of pioneering Australia,(Waltzing Matilda, The Man from Snowy River) Henry was more of a realist (The Drover's Wife, Andy's Gone with Cattle) and wrote his poetry just as he saw things.

The painting "In Defence of the Bush" is by Pro Hart from the anthology I have of Banjo's poems illustrated by Pro! (Yep, first name terms. They are all my good friends :-)

Dueling Poets

WORDLESS    WEDNESDAY

S1s Art Work

WORDLESS  WEDNESDAY

The Geebung Polo Club

by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

It was somewhere up the country in a land of rock and scrub,
That they formed an institution called the Geebung Polo Club.
They were long and wiry natives of the rugged mountainside,
And the horse was never saddled that the Geebungs couldn't ride;
But their style of playing polo was irregular and rash -
They had mighty little science, but a mighty lot of dash:
And they played on mountain ponies that were muscular and strong,
Though their coats were quite unpolished, and their manes and tails were long.
And they used to train those ponies wheeling cattle in the scrub:
They were demons, were the members of the Geebung Polo Club.

It was somewhere down the country, in a city's smoke and steam,
That a polo club existed, called the Cuff and Collar Team.
As a social institution 'twas a marvellous success,
For the members were distinguished by exclusiveness and dress.
They had natty little ponies that were nice, and smooth, and sleek,
For their cultivated owners only rode 'em once a week.
So they started up the country in pursuit of sport and fame,
For they meant to show the Geebungs how they ought to play the game;
And they took their valets with them - just to give their boots a rub
Ere they started operations on the Geebung Polo Club.

Now my readers can imagine how the contest ebbed and flowed,
When the Geebung boys got going it was time to clear the road;
And the game was so terrific that ere half the time was gone
A spectator's leg was broken - just from merely looking on.
For they waddied one another till the plain was strewn with dead,
While the score was kept so even that they neither got ahead.
And the Cuff and Collar captain, when he tumbled off to die,
Was the last surviving player - so the game was called a tie.

Then the captain of the Geebungs raised him slowly from the ground,
Though his wounds were mostly mortal, yet he fiercely gazed around;
There was no one to oppose him - all the rest were in a trance,
So he scrambled on his pony for his last expiring chance,
For he meant to make an effort to get victory to his side;
So he struck at goal - and missed it - then he tumbled off and died.

By the old Campaspe River, where the breezes shake the grass,
There's a row of little gravestones that the stockmen never pass,
For they bear a crude inscription saying, "Stranger, drop a tear,
For the Cuff and Collar players and the Geebung boys lie here."
And on misty moonlit evenings, while the dingoes howl around,
You can see their shadows flitting down that phantom polo ground;
You can hear the loud collisions as the flying players meet,
And the rattle of the mallets, and the rush of ponies' feet,
Till the terrified spectator rides like blazes to the pub -
He's been haunted by the spectres of the Geebung Polo Club.

The Antipodean, 1893

Illustrated by Pro Hart

A Treasured Book

One of my most treasured poetry anthologies. Given as a birthday gift by a friend almost 30 years ago.

Poems of BANJO PATERSON

Illustrated by Pro Hart

Front Cover

Back Cover

I intend to post one of Banjo's poems and Pro's interesting paintings from time to time.

End of Year Celebration

On Friday we celebrated the end

of the 2009 school year with a day at the beach.

9am Sand Castle and Sculptures competition.

Er, did anyone think to check the tide times?

Work fast kids!

The Titanic
The entry from my boys and a few of their mates won their section.

Building a dyke to keep out the sea.

Bail Mum, bail!

Winning castle in the littlies section.

The children had to build fast as the tide was coming in. This fun competition was followed by a swim and then morning tea. One of the mums had made up a clever scavenger hunt, which the children loved. They had to "find" some very obscure things. A pirate with a wooden leg, a finger nail 10cm long, a treasure map... Some of the groups proved very creative!

After games of footy (yes Queenslanders are strange like that!) and other fun and strenuous things we enjoyed lunch together. Plenty of swimming and chatting and then the sleepy trip home. As mentioned in other posts it is only a 40min trip to the coast, so a nice day out for us all.

We are very blessed to have a large, active and supportive group of parents and children in this area. Phew! Another year down.

First Art Work!

To Mumma

27 October, 2009

Hand and foot prints and stamps

By GS2

Another Park, More Art

The Lamb's Book of Art starts off with some basic lessons on Primary and Secondary colours. So last week we took a diversion from the book and had a paint session. We used only red, yellow and blue and did some mixing to create the secondary colours. Then the children made some lovely butterfly prints to observe the colours they could make. Some of them were really lovely. We mums laughed at how paint deprived some of the older ones were. They loved this! I remember when I would get out paints for the boys as littlies the older girls loved to come out and make butterfly prints, too.

Then we had each of the children collect three things from the surrounding park area to make other prints. Some made interesting use of cans and caps. Mostly they chose leaves and sticks and did a nice job with them.


A fragile leaf.


The veins are effective.

This interesting picture was made with a bunch of leaves still attached to their branch.
All our sessions as a group so far have been very basic but it has been worthwhile.
The children are enjoying it, hopefully learning something and the mums are certainly enjoying the time the families are spending together.

Hard at Work!!!

Home education is such a difficult and demanding job -

but someone has to tackle the hard work! The beautiful scenery from our outdoor art studio.

Mums and a few lambs.




The three families doing "Lamb's Book of Art" together enjoyed a lovely morning
at the coast last week. We did the weeks Art lesson, some casual nature study
and some serious beach sports!
The children really thrive on days such as this and while they are fun
they also give them some experience working in a group.
A great stress reliever for the mums too I might add.
These two particular mothers have been very supportive and helpful to me
with my boys struggles. (One of them is teaching an Aspergers child)

Art in the Park

My children, sadly, get their artistic and creative talents from me! The boys found the craft day rather torturous, I'm afraid. Although the lunch and opportunity to play with their friends afterwards make up for the actual lesson. This was a day organized by our home schooling group which a couple of the talented mothers ably ran.

On a regular Friday afternoon we have started doing "Lamb's Book of Art " with a small group which my guys find much more manageable. Thanks to Beyond Bluestockings for the encouragement to tackle that and maybe as we get to some interesting stuff I'll post the progress there. Above and below: The high school aged kids did some very excellent paintings!

These are not done by my kids folks!

The younger children did collages .

Most were fairly basic, like my boys efforts but some were quite outstanding.

Bush hut

by a young friend

Egg carton truck.

The company name says it all!

By one of my sons.

Outback scene

By my other son

Carpet Snake

We've been enjoying a little unit of early Australian history.

Last week we looked at the beautiful Dorethea Mckellar poem, My Country (I know I've posted it before but I do love it!) and some paintings by aboriginal artist, Albert Namatjira. Take the time to scroll down and look at his paintings on the site. (especially overseas readers.) Namatjira does not paint in the traditional aboriginal style, but I do like his very realistic landscapes. I have fond memories of a few of his paintings hanging in the classroom in my primary school.

Today we enjoyed some humour from Kath Walker who is a well known aboriginal poet.

Here is a link to the poem Ballad of the Totems by Kath Walker. My boys liked the way Mrs Walker spoke of her family and people (tribe) but used humour as well.

Masterpiece '09

A little modern, computer art by my S1!

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