..is A Bush Christening, by Banjo Patterson.

Every time I read about or see the Barcoo River, eg: Blackall, I think of this poem. 

On the outer Barcoo where churches are few,

And men of religion are scanty, .....

What's your favourite?

Well done Rosie. And GD, I love that one too.

There's another one that I can only remember a couple of phrases of...chuck your old pot and change your moniker...ah, but I like Doreen. It was about a bushy going to see Romeo & Juliet. I think it was CJ Dennis.

Anyone remember the title?

Beth54 wrote:

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Well done Rosie. And GD, I love that one too.

There's another one that I can only remember a couple of phrases of...chuck your old pot and change your moniker...ah, but I like Doreen. It was about a bushy going to see Romeo & Juliet. I think it was CJ Dennis.

Anyone remember the title?

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Beth, It is CJ Dennis and I'm pretty sure that it's called "The Play". It was in a book that I had called "The Poems Of A Sentimental Bloke".

In answer to your original question...I have several favourites...
From the classic Australian poets...I can't decide between Dorothea Mackellar's "My Country" and Banjo Patterson's "The Man From Snowy River".

I also love many modern Aussie bush poems. Almost anything by Murray Hartin is a favourite.

Cheers. Pam.

There were two lady bush poets at the CP in Winton 2 years ago. Mel & ...?? They were fantastic. So so funny. One recited a poem about women going to the loo.  Waiting in the queue,,water on the floor, trying to stop your pants from falling into it,,no hook for the handbag, hanging it around your neck,,and the old classic of no loo paper! It was spot on! I nearly wet myself from laughing so much!

Thanks Pam, that's the one.

Beth54 wrote:

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......................chuck your old pot and change your moniker...ah, but I like Doreen. 

Anyone remember the title?

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 It's called "The Play"

Wot's in a name? -- she sez . . . An' then she sighs, 
An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes. 
"A rose," she sez, "be any other name 
Would smell the same.
Oh, w'erefore art you Romeo, young sir? 
Chuck yer ole pot, an' change yer moniker!"
 
Doreen an' me, we bin to see a show -- 
The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know. 
A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat; 
A slap-up treat. 
The drarmer's writ be Shakespeare, years ago, 
About a barmy goat called Romeo.
 
"Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez 'e. 
An' then 'e climbs up on the balkiney; 
An' there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words 
Like two love-birds. 
I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain't it grand!" 
'Er eyes is shining an' I squeeze 'er 'and.
 
'Wot's in a name?" she sez. 'Struth, I dunno. 
Billo is just as good as Romeo. 
She may be Juli-er or Juli-et -- 
'E loves 'er yet. 
If she's the tart 'e wants, then she's 'is queen, 
Names never count ... But ar, I like "Doreen!"
 
A sweeter, dearer sound I never 'eard; 
Ther's music 'angs around that little word, 
Doreen! ... But wot was this I starts to say 
About the play? 
I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love 
'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove.
 
This Romeo 'e's lurkin' wiv a crew -- 
A dead tough crowd o' crooks -- called Montague. 
'Is cliner's push -- wot's nicknamed Capulet -- 
They 'as 'em set. 
Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks, 
Ixcep' they fights wiv skewers 'stid o' bricks.
 
Wot's in a name? Wot's in a string o' words? 
They scraps in ole Verona wiv the'r swords, 
An' never give a bloke a stray dog's chance, 
An' that's Romance. 
But when they deals it out wiv bricks an' boots 
In Little Lon., they're low, degraded broots.
 
Wot's jist plain stoush wiv us, right 'ere to-day, 
Is "valler" if yer fur enough away. 
Some time, some writer bloke will do the trick 
Wiv Ginger Mick, 
Of Spadger's Lane. 
'E'll be a Romeo, 
When 'e's bin dead five 'undred years or so.
 
Fair Juli-et, she gives 'er boy the tip. 
Sez she: "Don't sling that crowd o' mine no lip; 
An' if you run agin a Capulet, 
Jist do a get." 
'E swears 'e's done wiv lash; 'e'll chuck it clean. 
(Same as I done when I first met Doreen.)
 
They smooge some more at that. Ar, strike me blue! 
It gimme Joes to sit an' watch them two! '
E'd break away an' start to say good-bye, 
An' then she'd sigh 
"Ow, Ro-me-o!" an' git a strangle-holt, 
An' 'ang around 'im like she feared 'e'd bolt.
 
Nex' day 'e words a gorspil cove about 
A secret weddin'; an' they plan it out.
'E spouts a piece about 'ow 'e's bewitched: 
Then they git 'itched ... 
Now, 'ere's the place where I fair git the pip! 
She's 'is for keeps, an' yet 'e lets 'er slip!
 
Ar! but 'e makes me sick! A fair gazob! 
E's jist the glarsey on the soulful sob, 
'E'll sigh and spruik, a' 'owl a love-sick vow --
(The silly cow!) 
But when 'e's got 'er, spliced an' on the straight 
'E crools the pitch, an' tries to kid it's Fate.
 
Aw! Fate me foot! Instid of slopin' soon 
As 'e was wed, off on 'is 'oneymoon, 
'Im an' 'is cobber, called Mick Curio, 
They 'ave to go 
An' mix it wiv that push o' Capulets. 
They look fer trouble; an' it's wot they gets.
 
A tug named Tyball (cousin to the skirt) 
Sprags 'em an' makes a start to sling off dirt. 
Nex' minnit there's a reel ole ding-dong go - 
'Arf round or so. 
Mick Curio, 'e gets it in the neck, 
"Ar rats!" 'e sez, an' passes in 'is check.
 
Quite natchril, Romeo gits wet as 'ell. 
"It's me or you!" 'e 'owls, an' wiv a yell, 
Plunks Tyball through the gizzard wiv 'is sword, 
'Ow I ongcored! 
"Put in the boot!" I sez. "Put in the boot!" 
"'Ush!" sez Doreen ... "Shame!" sez some silly coot.
 
Then Romeo, 'e dunno wot to do. 
The cops gits busy, like they allwiz do, 
An' nose around until 'e gits blue funk 
An' does a bunk. 
They wants 'is tart to wed some other guy. 
"Ah, strike!" she sez. "I wish that I could die!"
 
Now, this 'ere gorspil bloke's a fair shrewd 'ead. 
Sez 'e "I'll dope yeh, so they'll think yer dead." 
(I tips 'e was a cunnin' sort, wot knoo 
A thing or two.) 
She takes 'is knock-out drops, up in 'er room: 
They think she's snuffed, an' plant 'er in 'er tomb.
 
Then things gits mixed a treat an' starts to whirl. 
'Ere's Romeo comes back an' finds 'is girl 
Tucked in 'er little coffing, cold an' stiff, 
An' in a jiff, 
'E swallows lysol, throws a fancy fit, 
'Ead over turkey, an' 'is soul 'as flit.
 
Then Juli-et wakes up an' sees 'im there, 
Turns on the water-works an' tears 'er 'air, 
"Dear love," she sez, "I cannot live alone!" 
An' wiv a moan, 
She grabs 'is pockit knife, an' ends 'er cares ... 
"Peanuts or lollies!" sez a boy upstairs.

Thanks Rosie. I couldn't find it in my book. I suppose I could have googled.

There was a Man from Australia

who painted His Arse like a Dahlia

the colours were true

like Red White and Blue

but the stink was a failure.......

Beth54 wrote:

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Well done Rosie. And GD, I love that one too.

There's another one that I can only remember a couple of phrases of...chuck your old pot and change your moniker...ah, but I like Doreen. It was about a bushy going to see Romeo & Juliet. I think it was CJ Dennis.

Anyone remember the title?

---

 It was C.J. Dennis. From the Sentimentl Bloke.

From what I remember:

Doreen and me we been to see a show

The swell two dollar touch

Bong tong ya' know.

The Drama's Writ be Shakespeare years ago

"Bout a barmy goat calle Romeo.

Unfortunately all I can remember apart from random lines.

sorry Rosie,  didn't get to your previous post before I jumped in.

Gerty Dancer wrote:

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I once played the part of young Maginnis's father (yes that right, not mother!) in a play where I worked. The older audience absolutely loved it.

But my favourite poem is Dorothea Mackellar's My Country

"I love a sunburnt country
A land of sweeping plains,
of rugged mountain ranges
of droughts and flooding rains"

Its been put to music and my choir performed it often with much feeling. We sang it in all sorts of places, memorably including on the rim of Wilpena Pound in the Flinders Ranges, SA. I miss those trips.

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 I think the actual line is "ragged" mountain ranges.

Yep, you"re right Jack.