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AUSTRALIAN
BUSH POETS |
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Hector
Maclean was born in Rockampton in 1919 and the son of a
grazier in the Baralaba district in central Queensland.
The old family property named Wandoo was sold and the new
acquisition was called Wongadoo.
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Veronica
Weal was born in England, but arrived in Australia with her
parents when she was just three months old.
She lives in Herberton, North Queensland, with her
husband Ken, has two adult children and one grandchild.
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Roderick
was born in Lismore in 1940 and in the years since then he has
lived a busy, committed and colourful life. A hard working
childhood (before, during and after leaving school at fifteen)
amongst broken men, a dying father and a disintegrating family
(all results of world War Two) was spent with horses, cattle,
in banana plantations, timber cutting, post splitting,
fencing, saw-mill worker, stockman to professional shearer and
professional actor.Scoring top-tallies in these two main
professions, with many other jobs done and skills acquired
along the way.
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Ellis
Campbell, unlike many academics today who had their
schooling at colledge or university, received his education
at the school of hard knocks. What little schoolin' he
had was at a little one teacher bush school and, even then,
left at an early age. Ellis lived and worked in the
bush for the greater part of his life and tried his hand at
shearing, droving, fencing, horse breaking and timber
cutting.
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Richard
Magoffin, was born in Cloncurry in 1937 and has lived all
his life in North west Queensland. He has followed a
varity of pursuits: grazier, drover, builder, fencer,
teacher, chaplain, historian, sports coach, actor, director,
playwright, editor, publisher, entertainer, parent and
grandparent! Richard's verses were first published
from age 13 as The Boredrain Balladist. He has 23
titles in print and has just released his first CD.
Richard these days shows and tells the real story of
Waltzing Matilda at The Matilda Expo and Heritage Theatre on
the Matilda Highway at Kynuna.
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Scott
was born and raised on the family property near Monto, in
the Upper Burnett area of Queensland. I've long had an
interest in rhyming verse, with my earliest attempts dating
back to 1978. Those first attempts can be best be
described as pretty ordinary with some later ones being a
little bit better than that. This book is a collection
of what I consider to be some of the better ones.
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Dennis
Carstairs was born and raised in Gippsland, in the eastern
part of Victoria and in the foothills of the Victorian High
Country.
Dennis
left school at the age of 14 and worked on professional
fishing boats out of Lakes Entrance before joining the Royal
Australian Navy in 1969 and at the age of 17 Dennis returned
home to care for his mother after the death of his dad in
1973 and again returned to the fishing fleet. It was about
this time that Dennis began writing some bush poetry.
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Ric
lives in Wedderburn which is located approximately 230
kilometres north of Melbourne in the State of Victoria.
Prior to being in Wedderburn and Bendigo, Ric lived in
Barmah for some months. It is one of his most favourite
places. There is more about Barmah
in my piece of verse by the same name in these pages. Ric is
a member of the Australian Bush Poets Association. He has
been involved in bush poetry since 1997 and in music of many
varieties since 1970. Ric is an accomplished guitarist and
backs himself when singing. He also plays some banjo and
harmonica. One of his greatest regrets is he is yet to find
a way to play harmonica and sing at the same time. Ric is
available for performance and more details can be found on
his Bookings
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A
wonderfully ear-grabbing Bush Poet and “stretcher of the
truth” extraordinaire, Graeme’s performances are
renowned for their vibrancy, humour and heartfelt emotion.
In the true larrikin style his reciting covers everything
from the silly to the serious, Traditional to Contemporary.
Since 1995 he’s received over 80 commendations for his
spoken and written work and has been included in 16
Anthologies of Australian Poetry.
He recently won two of Australia’s most prestigious
Literary Awards in the Banjo
Paterson Bush Poetry Competition in 2004.
& the Leonard
Teale Spoken Word Award 2005.
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Bruce
Forbes Simpson is a unique man in that he joins the likes of
'Breaker' Morant and, latterly, Bert Facey and Tom Cole as a
true bushman sufficiently articulate and eloquent to relate
his personal experiences in literary form. And he
covers a unique part of Australia's lifestyle - 'The droving
game'. Much has been written about droving:
largely the personal experiences of others, related via the
pens of professional writers like Mary Durack and Keith
Willey. Bruce Simpson tells it in the first person.
Bruce can speak with absolute authority about the period
with the expressive ability of a self-educated man.
His poetry is an example of this. |
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Liz
Ward possesses the qualities which typify the pioneer woman
familiar to Australians through literature and the media.
Liz has assumed the mantle of wife, mother and
grandmother, accepted the role of helpmate, workmate and a
soul mate and has combined the practicality of the working
Australian woman with the femininity for which those ladies
are renowned. She is as adept with a set of wire strainers
as she is with a Doulton tea service.
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Bill
Glasson was born in Brisbane in 1924, and was educated at
Brisbane Boys College. He was a Jackeroo on ‘Lara Downs’
Julia Creek for two years, and at eighteen joined the Army,
later remustering to the RAAF. Most of his life was
spent managing family properties at Roma, Richmond and
Narangba. In the 1960’s he drew a block in the Moonie
district and in 1979, he and his wife Del moved to
‘Springfield’ at Pilton. It was then that Bill
began his twilight career at the age of 50, of writing Bush
Verse. He has won numerous awards including the prestigious
Bronze Swagman in 1979, and the Henry Lawson Diamond Shears
in 1985.
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Born
on a sheep farm in Armidale and raised on good Robertson
spud country, Geoffrey Graham has had a variety of
occupations. These included work in abattoirs, a job
as research station assistant, farm work, involving
everything from shearing to teaching city kids to ride
horses. After completing an Agricultural Economics degree at
the University of New England and a Dip Ed, Geoffrey
lectured in Farm Management at Yanco for 5 years.
While lecturing he became involved with producing revues and
playing in Rock n' Roll bands. In fact this eventually
changed his career path; acting and entertaining soon became
his passion. |
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AUSTRALIAN
BUSH BALLADERS |
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Kelly
Dixon is one of Australia's most well respected ballad
writers and several of his ballads have been set to music
and recorded by leading country artists. Kelly has on
two occassions won the Golden Gumleafbush Laureate Awards
with his books From A Drifter's Pen and From Under the
Cross, and a number of bush poetry written competitions |
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If
you are looking for an interesting writer of lyrical outback
history and Australian, none is more so than legendary Joe
Daley. "Tracks I Left behind" is Joe’s recent
release and this book captures an awesome collection of
Australian outback and our Aussie character in the intricate
form of verse. A little history on Joe can be found on the
back cover of the book; |
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Background
PETER COAD (originally part of the popular Coad Bros), and
his sisters VIRGINIA and LYNETTE (COAD SISTERS), are PETER
COAD & the COAD SISTERS, full time professional
entertainers with over 20 years experience working in the
music industry. Versatile multi-instrumentalists, vocalists
originally from the isolated northern outback of SA, they
now reside in Bundanoon NSW. |
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Ray
Rose was born in Taroom, Queensland on the 16th December,
1936. Raised on the family property "The
Brae". Ray left home at nineteen and went working
over various parts of the state, taking on what ever came to
hand. Shearer, Breaker, Fencer, Drover, Truck Driver,
Sapphire Miner, Butcher etc.
Just
an old bushman who, as he says, been up more dry gullies
than he cares to remember. He always had a yearning to
own his own little piece of Australia [while there's still
some left] came close a few times. |
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To
actually see a CD of his own coming together is a wonderful
feeling, and a big achievement for him. Ashley has been
playing country music since he was a young lad at primary
school, and that’s when he started doing the CM Festivals. |
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Denise
and Bobby have been performing regularly on the local
Country Music circuit since 1999 as a members of the Wide
Bay branch of the ACMA (Australasian Country Music
Association). Bobby plays guitar and Denise is recognised
throughout the region as a very talented country drummer and
started competing at Country Music Festivals as a vocalist
and discovered that her easy listening and relaxed vocal
style lends itself extremely well to Bush Ballads - a style
of music she has always favoured. Between March and
September 2003, Denise has competed in 5 Festivals winning
vocal awards at all including 2 firsts in Female Bush Ballad
and 1 Overall Bush Ballad. The highlight of the year was
becoming the Emerald Gems of Country Overall Winner singing
the Stan Coster Bush Ballad - "Just A Little Girthy". |
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Wave
Jackson [right] was born in Roma on the 17th of
August 1933. He
has lived most of his life on his parents property in the
Injune area of Queensland.
His father was born on ‘Merivale’ Station near
Injune in 1884.
The eldest of son of an English couple, Wave’s
grandparents were married at ‘Waroonga’ Station,
Mitchell in 1877. |
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COWBOY POETS |
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Howdy.My
story began in Nacogdoches,Texas, in the area called
"The Big Thicket." It's hard not to have the
cowboy way of life influence you if you grew up in Texas.
After all, Texas is where cowboys got their start more than
a hundred years ago.
I am a public speaker and have performed at Cowboy
Gatherings and other special events. I have been published
in several books and magazines over the years. |
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For
the past decade, Mag has been writing western/cowboy poetry
and performing at major cowboy festivals, as well as other
events, across Western Canada. Her recitations have also
been aired on TV and radio. Contributions of her rhymes and
festival reviews have frequently appeared on the BC
Cowboy Heritage Society web site and in their quarterly
newspaper, The Cowboy Times.
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Howard
Norskog was born in Gebo, Wyoming in 1933. He was raised in
Cody, Wyoming. He served in the Korean War at age sixteen,
made the rodeo circuits as a bull rider for eleven years,
raced motorcycles for twelve years, and coached amateur
boxing most of his life. Howard started writing Cowboy
Poetry in 1948 , and Christian Cowboy Poetry in 1994.
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Hal
Swift came into this world in Speedway City, Indiana.
It was a week before Christmas, 1928--the 25th anniversary
of Orville and Wilbur Wright's history-making flight at
Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. He was born Ralph Harmon
Swift, but got the name Hal while working as a disc jockey
at a radio station in Monterey, California in the early
1960s. His boss didn't like the double "uff"
in Ralph and Swift, so Hal held a contest with his
listeners. There were over 200 entries--and the one who came
in with the winning name went home with an unopened copy of
a long-play record album by Peter, Paul and Mary--taken, of
course, from the station's library. |
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I'm
from Oregon, and lived in the West all my life, in fact I've
never even seen the east bank of the Mississippi River.
School drove me crazy; it seriously cut into more important
aspects of my life -- like hunting and fishing. As
soon as I cut the lead rope that kept me tied to the school
building I started looking around for wider ranging
adventures - and I found them. In fact some of them
about scared me to death, but now they make for great
stories!
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Cowboy
Poetry Week is celebrated each year during April, National
Poetry Month in the United States and Canada. In
2008, Cowboy Poetry Week—the seventh annual—is
celebrated April 20-26. For the celebration's second year,
in April 2003, the United States Senate passed a resolution,
with unanimous approval, recognizing our Cowboy Week
celebration. Nineteen states’ governors and other
officials have recognized Cowboy Poetry Week and there have
been many activities across the West and beyond. |
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HECTOR
MACLEAN
Hector
Maclean was born in Rockampton in 1919 and the son of a
grazier in the Baralaba district in central Queensland.
The old family property named Wandoo was sold and the new
acquisition was called Wongadoo.
His early years of education were at the Baralaba State
School, though Hector would complete his Scholarship year by
correspondence and then go on to do his Junoir at Scotts
College at Warwick.
After finishing school Hector worked as a Jackaroo around
the Baralaba district and helped his father on Wongadoo. He
joined the army in 1940 and served in the Middle-east and in
the Islands of the Pacific. Hector inherited a portion of
Wongadoo after his father's death and worked on.
In 1979 Hector retired with his wife Lennie to the Bundaberg
district and today lives in the seaside town of Bargara. His
association with bush poetry goes back to his childhood
years, where he recalls his dad reciting to the
children the poems of Banjo Paterson. In his retirement
years Hector put his many memories of bush life to pen and
paper and was rewarded by having eleven of his poems
published in the Bronze Swagman Book of Verse over a period
of years since 1976 and was also awarded highly commended
certificates in the Blackened Billy Verse competition in
2001.
Before Hector passed away he was able to release his book,
'The Ballad of Henry Kable and Other Bush Verse', which
features all his works.
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THE
MARTINET
Tim Barker was a grazier, a man of fixed ideas,
Who never would acknowledge the existence of his peers.
One day he hired a station hand, a likely looking lad,
Of whom Tim's first impression was a passing "not to bad."
To acquaint the new hand with the job a briefing then took place,
As Tim explained his methods as a lawyer would a case.
The most important thing, he claimed, to keep the workload light,
Was making sure that what they did was always done just right.
Then while the newly hired hand was taking all this in
The boss's next instruction brought the glimmer of a grin.
He wasn't being paid to think, but for the work he did,
So he must only do those things to which he had been bid.
So rising on the morrow morn, a while before the sun,
He ran the working horses in as elsewhere he had done.
Then headed for the homestead when he heard the breakfast bell,
But propped abruptly in his tracks at one loud angry yell.
It was the boss who bawled him out with more than just a scold,
Because he'd got the horses in though he had not been told.
He made him go and let them out before he broke his fast.
Then ordered him to get them in straight after that repast.
So this he did reluctantly and let the nightmare go
Then made his way back to the yard with languid footsteps slow.
Just then the boss came striding out all business like and keen,
But stopped and stared and staggered for no horses could be seen.
"Where are the horses lad?" he raged, "why aren't they in the yard?"
And this is when the station hand produced his clever card.
"If they have all got out," he said, "the blame must be on you.
I couldn't shut the flamin' gate; you never told me to!"
©Hector McLean |
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VERONICA
WEAL
Veronica
Weal was born in England, but arrived in Australia with her
parents when she was just three months old.
She lives in Mt Isa, in north-east Queensland, with her
husband Ken, has two adult children and one grandchild, and
works part-time for the Royal Flying Doctor Service.
As a teenager, her love
of horses and riding was the inspiration for her first bush
poems. In 1982,
she began to take writing more seriously, and since then has
won many competitions, including two prestigious Bronze
Swagman Awards, in 1987 and 2001;
the Henry Lawson Diamond Shears;
the Camp Oven Award;
two Charters Towers Gold City competitions; the 2001
NSW Ladies Championships, the 2002 Blackened Billy Award.
Tamworth NSW, the 2002 Elyne Mitchell Award,
Corryong,Vic; and the Ladies
Humorous section of the 2002 Australian Bush Poetry
Championships.
Veronica’s work is used regularly by other poets, for
both competitions and performance.
Her poems have appeared in several anthologies,
including Macmillan’s “A Thousand Campfires”, “Cowgirl
Poetry” [USA], and in the series “Bush Verse for Aussie
Children”, as well as in newspapers and magazines.
Her first book, “The Crack of the Whip” was a
finalist in the Australian Bush Laureate Awards at Tamworth in
2002.
Veronica began
performing her work in 1999, winning the Qantas-Waltzing
Matilda Christina MacPherson novice award at Winton the same
year, and since then has won and been placed in open
competitions.
You
can contact Veronica by
writing to 13A Mowbray Road Herberton Qld 4887
or Ph 07 4096 3435.
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HORSES
There's
a love that is more like a passion!
It
can flow like a fire in your veins.
And
it lifts up your heart in a fashion
That's
unmatched by the fizz of champagnes.
It's
the love of the horse! They enslave you
With
their strength and their beauty combined.
It's
the love you were born with. God gave you
This
emotion which captures your mind
There
is nothing to equal the feeling
When
you're cantering over the plains,
And
you know that your steed will go wheeling
Left
or right at a touch of the reins.
And
the world of the horse is enthralling,
From
the sweet satin smell of its hide,
To
the crack of the whip as it's falling,
And
the galloping beat as you ride.
To
the addict a horse brings elation
Hoofbeats
sound like a sweet lullaby.
And
your joy in this lovely creation
Will
remain in your heart till you die!
©
Veronica Weal
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ELLIS
CAMPBELL
Ellis
Campbell, unlike many academics today who had their
schooling at colledge or university, received his education
at the school of hard knocks. What little schoolin' he
had was at a little one teacher bush school and, even then,
left at an early age. Ellis lived and worked in the
bush for the greater part of his life and tried his hand at
shearing, droving, fencing, horse breaking and timber
cutting.
In his later years he moved to Dubbo where he still lives
today. Ellis carries the grit and humour, the
authentic taste of those early years into many of his poems.
Yet he is not stuck in the past or in the archaic diction of
bygone years. His verses flow easily in contemporary
language. His eye and ear are vigilant of today's
foibles and tragedies.
Because of the considerable body of his published work and
its quality, also the number of literary awards he has
received, in 1995 the fellowship of Australian
Writers N.S.W. Inc. recognised such achievements and he was
presented with a certificate on his elevation to the degree
of WritingFellow.
A number of Ellis' poems have been recorded in four
publications since 1984. Snakes Alive! & Other
verse was released in 1984, Nostalgia At the Boundary Gate -
1986, The Gloss of the Bush - 2000 and Shadows of yesteryear
- 2002. His books have been finalists at the
Golden Gumleaf Bush Laureate Awards in Tamworth.
Besides being a writer, Ellis has proven himself to be a
capable performer of his works and has won awards at bush
poetry competitions. He also has been asked to judge written
competitions and is often asked to conduct poetry workshops.
You can contact Ellis at 1 Lawson Street Dubbo N.S.W. 2830.
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FAREWELL
ALBIE THATCHER
The
flannel shirts and moccasins and bowyanged dungaress
disgruntled shearers stood beneath a clump of gidgea
trees.
In hush of dawns awareness there - like ghostly
silhouettes -
they shuffled dust with nervous feet and puffed on
cigarettes.
Displeasure lined their troubled brows and mutterings
began -
it seemed some problem new disturbed the mind of every
man.
The Warragloaming station sheep were mustered to the yard,
but rumours that a strike loomed near caught shearers off
their guard.
"I ain't got no complaints at all," said burly
Dan McGee,
"the pay of fifteen bob a hundred's good enough for
me."
The others nodded in assent and growled within their
beards
while Mickey Marham flicked away his cigarette and
sneered,
"There's just one agitator here - as far as I have
heard.
That city bloke, as sure as hell, he's trouble - mark my
word!
He'll stir some others up, you bet, and cause no end of
strife;
we'll lose a heap of dough for sure if this galah runs
rife."
Then Porky Rolfe assumed a stand that broached on grave
concern.
"The Warragloaming sheepshear well and good cashwe
can earn.
Who wants a bloody hold-up now, with Christmas nearly
here?
The breeding ewes and lambs look good and tallies we can
shear.
If Thatcher wasn't round the place the rest would be all
right;
his silky tongue can con a crowd and sway a meeting's
might."
Up stepped the one they called "the giant" - the
bearded Slugger Zorrow.
"The river's deep, the currents strong - he won't be
here tomorrow.
The shear blades-clicked and shear-blades flashed - the
white wool falling free
and Warragloaming tallies equalled guns at Gibber Tree.
And no one ever questioned Albie Thatcher's disappearance.
Did he somehow get the message and lacked the perseverance
and courage for advancement of his cause? None ever knew
or cared to seek the truth of why the whinger had shot
through.
Perhaps he slipped away in darkness - nothing underhand?
But Slugger Zorrow never gazed at Thatcher's vacant stand.
*Bowyangs - Straps worn beneath the knee of shearer's
trousers.
This poem is based on an incident that actually happened
in a large N.S.W. shed
around 1890. All names fictitous
Winner of diamond Shears Henry Lawson competition,
Longreach, Qld, 1997.
Also winner of Warwick Bush Poetry competition, Warwick,
Qld, 1998.
© Ellis
Campbell
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RICHARD
MAGOFFIN
Richard
Magoffin, was born in Cloncurry in 1937 and has lived all his
life in North west Queensland. He has followed a varity
of pursuits: grazier, drover, builder, fencer, teacher,
chaplain, historian, sports coach, actor, director,
playwright, editor, publisher, entertainer, parent and
grandparent! Richard's verses were first published from
age 13 as The Boredrain Balladist. He has 23 titles in
print and has just released his first CD. Richard these
days shows and tells the real story of Waltzing Matilda at The
Matilda Expo and Heritage Theatre on the Matilda Highway at
Kynuna. Since
his research began in 1964, Richard has published a number of
books about Australia's national song. He has long been
recognised as Australia's foremost authority on Matilda
history. Richard presents facts, not fiction; answers, not
questions; history, not hype.
He is credited in encylopaedias with the definitive
origins: "The Australian Encyclopaedia", "The
Oxford Companions to Australian Literature and Folklore"
and "The Australian Geographic Encyclopaedia".
He opened Winton's bicentennial project, the Christina
Macpherson Cottage and, as consultant to Winton Shire through
1993, secured government funding for their centenary, although
he was not consulted for content of the Winton exhibit.
National recognition was accorded to him in the Queen's
Birthday Honour List last year when he was presented with the
Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM) "for services to
Australian folklore as an author of ballads and songs and to
presentation and promotion of Australian cultural
heritage."
Richard's
work for Winton and his operation of Matilda Expo were part of
the citation. He was nominated by Dr Clement Semmler, AM, OBE,
D. Litt., MA. A book reviewer of note, Semmler was also A. B.
"Banjo" Paterson's biographer with "The Banjo
of the Bush". For
Richard, "Waltzing Matilda" is not simply
Australia's national song - it is a family story which he has
spent years authenticating and documenting. His grandfather,
Dick, was a friend and neighbour of the Macphersons of
Dagworth, where Banjo wrote the ballad just 32km from Kynuna,
140km from Winton, in January 1895.
A Sydney lawyer, Paterson settled the Great Shearers'
Strike of 1894 over champagne at Kynuna Hotel, " Richard
said. Christina
Macpherson composed the music and her own account is displayed
at Matilda Expo, beside the priceless original 1895 manuscript
- which is, Richard says, a true Aussie icon and not to be
missed by visitors to outback Queensland.
Christina's
brother, Bob, was the "squatter" in Paterson's poem,
and was also a good pianist. Richard said Bob and Dick
Magoffin founded the Kynuna Race Club in 1899 and were mates
until Bob died in Dick's company in 1930 at the Kynuna Hotel,
now the Blue Heeler.
"For
35 years, Bob played his sister's song for Kynuna dances and
my father, also Dick, played saxophone," Richard said.
"I learned to play the original melody on a mouth organ
when I was eight – I've since graduated to the button
accordion!"
Today,
the original version of the song lives at only Kynuna where it
all began over champagne.
And hearing - as well as seeing - is believing, because
Richard always plays the song to his visitors.
There has been much controversy over the years about
the song, and Richard said that everything at Matilda Expo
fitted with Banjo's own written account of the true story of
the song. Paterson's precise statement is prominently
displayed.
"Visitors
wonder why it is not displayed elsewhere and why its Political
correctness? Why is the true story such a secret today?"
are questions asked by Richard.
Richard has published more than 20 titles and three new
ones are available at Matilda Expo this year. These include
"Bubble and Squeak" (Millennium Bush
Ballads),"Clancy and the Man from Snowy River - Who Were
They?" and "The Provenance of Waltzing Matilda"
(a definitive history). Live
musical entertainment is provided periodically during the day
at Matilda Expo and more at the two-hour live night show.
Patrons who have their own vans or tents can use free sites at
the Kynuna town waterhole just 300m off the road. There's
unlimited space. Night show guests can take powered sites
close by for a small charge.
Sadly
Richard passed away in 2006. Thanks for the memories
mate.
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TOO
BLOODY LATE
Those
bushfires were burning in mountains for weeks,
Up the gullies and creeks to the mountain peaks,
They were headlined for days on the national news,
But, we mustn't abuse and we mustn't accuse.
It was nobody's fault that Canberra burnt,
No-one's to blame and there's no lessons learnt.
It was nobodys fault that the fires didn't halt,
So, four hundred houses and four people burnt.
There were warnings for days of the crisis to come,
And we'll listen for weeks to the wails and bleats;
But there's no names named and there's no-one blamed,
As the duck-shoving gets more inflamed.
Pine cones exploding like army grenades;
There was no defence, there were no barricades;
Just the houses of nutters with leaves in their
gutters
From forests protected by tree-hugging Greens.
Yes, we all know the reason and cause of it all,
Why the huge fireball came down like a wall;
Yes, the felons to blame for those heart-rending
scenes
Are those lunatic, left-hugging, tree hugging Greens!
What hundreds of Greenies did volanteer?
We're wanting to know, still waiting to hear.
Did they save lots of animals out on the scene?
Or did they just fight from the front of a screen.
Now they're grading big firebreaks around all the
city;
Did they knock down some trees? What a bloody great
pity!
Reminds me a lot of the stockyard gate -
When the Red Steer has bolted - It's too bloody late
©Richard
Magoffin
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SCOTT
MCGUIGAN
Scott
was born and raised on the family property near Monto, in the
Upper Burnett area of Queensland. I've long had an
interest in rhyming verse, with my earliest attempts dating
back to 1978. Those first attempts can be best be
described as pretty ordinary with some later ones being a
little bit better than that. This book is a collection
of what I consider to be some of the better ones.
I
must say I was honoured to be asked to write the foreword to
Scott's first book of Australian verse. I first met this
true blue modern Australian bushman at a poet's breakfast in
the small country town of Anakie, in Central Queensland, where
he quietly showed me a few poems he had written. I liked
his work, and I also liked the man behind the writer's pen,
who was enthusiastically encouraged by his wife Julie.
Soon
I saw Scott enter and win the Emerald Country Music Festival's
Poetry competition, with a performance to thrill the audience,
and a delivery with maturity and sincerity.
Scott's
poem about Alfie Langer's return for the 2001 State of Origin
"The Greatest Phone Call Ever Made" was eagerly
accepted by the Broncos and has been included in the Jack
Galway's latest book, "Origin - The Greatest Contest in
Rugby League."
I
personally recommend this book " Of Mates and Places and
Good Times Had" to you.
Scott
I look forward to many more publications down the track.
Your
mate
JOHN
MAJOR 2002
You
can contact Scott at Scott McGuigan C/- Post Office,
Dingo, Qld. 4702 or phone 07 4935 8507.
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THE
GREATEST PHONE CALL EVER MADE
This
story is of a phone call,
Perhaps the greatest ever made,
To one of the greatest half backs,
That ever pulled on boots and played.
'Twas Wayne Bennett who called London,
Saying, "Alf we need you back,
Grab your footy boots and mouth guard,
And don't take too long to pack."
"For we need you back Down Under,
In the good old Sunshine State,
A simple yes is all I want,
I've no time to debate.
The Origin series is all locked up,
With the score at 1 game all,
We won the first game easily,
But in the second we had a fall."
"For we missed big Gordon's bustling runs,
John Buttigeig was out suspended,
And Doyle of course was still not back,
With his injury not quite mended.
What we need is your experience,
So I'll tell you what I'll do,
I have a master plan in mind,
No one's heard of it 'til you."
"Big Shane and Petro will lead the charge,
The young blokes are full of fight,
With Lote and Wendell on the flanks,
The out wide job is right.
I'll name Walker to play off the bench,
But I'll start him from the kick.
It's Freddy Fittler's last game see,
We'll give him wounds to lick."
"Darren Lockyer's shoulder will be right,
Says it will pass the doctor's test,
With him the Captain at fullback,
He'll give the Blues not rest.
Paul Green will play at Hooker,
With Smith to lock the pack,
So you'll be free to strut your stuff,
With the seven on your back."
With those words he paused for breath,
To hear his little mate's reply,
"My gear is packed, done as you spoke,
Now what time do I fly?
So Alfie came and Alfie played,
And once again the other side,
Were out-played and out-classed.
Then to top it off he scored a try,
As we all hoped he would,
To re-enforce what we all new,
That he was BLOODY GOOD!!
So for those of you who missed the game,
And missed Ray Warren's call,
The end result was Queensland heaps.
And New South BUGGER ALL!!
©
Scott McGuigan
Dingo,
Queensland.
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DENNIS
CARSTAIRS
Dennis
Carstairs was born and raised in Gippsland, in the eastern
part of Victoria and in the foothills of the Victorian High
Country.
Dennis
left school at the age of 14 and worked on professional
fishing boats out of Lakes Entrance before joining the Royal
Australian Navy in 1969 and at the age of 17 Dennis returned
home to care for his mother after the death of his dad in
1973 and again returned to the fishing fleet. It was about
this time that Dennis began writing some bush poetry.
Dennis
began working on the Offshore Oil Rigs in the Bass Strait in
1976 and has been there ever since. His bush poetry came and
went over the years with most of his material finishing up
in a shoe box under the bed.
It
wasn’t until 1995 that things started to happen for him.
During a trip around Australia with his wife, Julie, they
pulled into the Gunnado Caravan Park in Longreach. A Bush
Poet was advertised around a BBQ tea in the park that night.
The Bush Poet turned out to be Milton Taylor the, to be,
four times Australian Champion. After a stirring performance
Milton asked the audience if anyone wanted to perform a
poem. Julie Carstairs literally pushed Dennis forward and
his first impromptu public performance took place. Milton
must have been impressed enough (or as Dennis said, felt
sorry enough) with Dennis to give him a guiding hand and
plenty of tips. Milton introduced Dennis to the Australian
Bush Poets Association, formed only the year before in
Tamworth, and things have never looked back.
Dennis
first competed at the Mountain Cattleman’s Association Of
Victoria (MCAV) annual get-together in 1997, not making the
finals, but going on to win the award in
1998, 99, 00 & 01. He has also competed in the
Australian Bush Poetry Championships in 1999, 00, 02 &
03 making the finals in 2002. He was runner up in the NSW
Bush Poetry Championships in 2001, winner of several awards
at the ‘Man from Snowy River Festival’ at Corryong 2000,
01, 02 & 03. Dennis was also a finalist in both the
traditional and original sections of the Imperial Hotel
competition at Tamworth in 2003, taking out third place in
the original section. He also took out third place in the
Victorian Bush Poetry Championships in 2004.
Dennis
is founding president of the ‘Gippsland Bush Poets’,
Vice President of the Victorian Bush Poets Association and a
committee member of the Australian Bush Poets Association.
He
published his book ‘listen ‘ere ol’ mate’ in 1999
and describes himself as a ‘traditional’ bush poet with
a burning desire to keep alive the art of bush verse.
Dennis
lives in the small town of Stratford, population 1100, in
East Gippsland with his wife, Julie and daughter Deon. His
interests out side poetry are horse riding and trout fishing
in Victoria’s High Country (about an hour away) Aussie
Rules Football (Brisbane Lions) and Australian History. He
is also actively engaged in RSL and Veteran affairs, being
President of his local RSL Sub Branch.
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THE
WONNANGATTA MURDERS
High
up in the mountains, west of Dargo way
The Post card perfect valleyof the Wonnangatta lay.
It has been described in many a book as a mountain
paradise,
It's remote and ruggedd grazing land, first tamed by
Smith and Bryce.
But
now the lonely cypress sway, if only they could
speak;
There's been some doings, murderous doings, down on
Conglomerate Creek.
The graveyard site stands solemnly, beneath the
swaying pines,
The headstones tell us stories of grieving, harsher
times
And
the burnt out homestead site is now but stones upon
the ground.
It's secret's safe, no one will know, the killers
never found.
It was back in 1917 when this murderous deed was
done,
The Manager, Barclay, shot in the back - close range
with a shotgun.
But
whose finger pulled the trigger, were they stranger
or mountain bread.
A station hand called Bamford had disappeared - or
had he fled.
The city bred detective thought the case would soon
be closed,
Bamford was the shady type; he'd done the murder he
supposed.
A
statewide search was soon begun, as Bamford's
reputation grew.
The locals mouths were tightly closed, the leads
were far and few.
As the winter snows began to melt and spring time
came around
Throughout the district word soon spread that
Bamford had been found,
Near
the Wonnangatta Station on a track that's seldom
used.
Beneath a pile of half burnt logs they found the man
accused.
Was Bamford an innocent victim? Or was this mountain
justice; eye for eye.
For eighty years the Wonnangatta has been silent in
reply.
Oh
, sure there's been some theories of how aand why
these men were slain.
But there's a silence 'mongst the mountain folk,
this mystery will remain.
So visit the Wonanngatta Valley to where this story
had its source,
The beauty and history will surround you, let your
imagination run its course.
Think
of families born and raised there and how someone
lost the plot,
Though its past is harsh and brutal it's a really
lovely spot.
©Dennis
Carstairs |
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BRUCE
SIMPSON
Bruce
Forbes Simpson is a unique man in that he joins the likes of
'Breaker' Morant and, latterly, Bert Facey and Tom Cole as a
true bushman sufficiently articulate and eloquent to relate
his personal experiences in literary form. And he
covers a unique part of Australia's lifestyle - 'The droving
game'. Much has been written about droving:
largely the personal experiences of others, related via the
pens of professional writers like Mary Durack and Keith
Willey. Bruce Simpson tells it in the first person.
Bruce can speak with absolute authority about the period
with the expressive ability of a self-educated man.
His poetry is an example of this.
Bruce
was a drover - and a 'packhorse drover' at that - right up
to the 1960's when the road
trians were introduced to perform long hauls of cattle to
market. Bruce has published a number of books
including Packhorse Drover which can be found in ABC
Bookshops.
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THE
PACKHORSE DROVER
Oh
the droving life is a life that's free,
On the unfenced routes of the back country,
And a packhorse camp is the place to be,
When they're bringing the store mob's over;
Oh life is happy with not a care,
Wwith the bush smells strong on the balmy air,
For a whiff of the cook would curl your hair,
In the camp of the packhorse drover.
Now the drover'sbed is a couch to please,
On the stony ground mid the Bogan fleas,
Or in mud that is up to a horse's kness,
When the wintry rains drift over;
But life is happy and lifes is sweet,
Tho' there's never enough for a man to eat,
And losing weight is a simple feat,
In the camp of the packhorse drover.
The sky is grey with a hint of rain,
While the wind blows chill o'er the Rankine plain,
And a ringer swears that he'll drove again,
When the ceiling of Hell frosts over;
But life is happy and life is good,
'Round a cowdung fire when there is no wood,
When the damper tastes asit never should,
In the camp of a packhorse drover.
We watch the mob and we sing the blues,
And we'd sell our souls for a nip of booze,
As the hours drag by on their leaden shoes,
And the Southern Cross turns over;
It's a rugged life but we never whine,
For the mateship found in the bush is fine,
Tho' the boss of course is a hungry swine,
And a typical packhorse drover.
©Bruce
Forbes Simpson. |
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LIZ
WARD
Liz Ward
possesses the qualities which typify the pioneer woman familiar to
Australians through literature and the media.
Liz has assumed the mantle of wife, mother and grandmother,
accepted the role of helpmate, workmate and a soul mate and has combined
the practicality of the working Australian woman with the femininity for
which those ladies are renowned. She is as adept with a set of wire
strainers as she is with a Doulton tea service.
In her lifetime she has seen technological changes which have
made everyday events and practices merely memories. Through her poetry she
has preserved many of these memories whilst also reflecting today's
lifestyle in her verse.
Sympathetic to the situation of rural women, Liz writes with
authority on a range of topics which manifests her knowledge of, and love
for, the bush and its people. The range of emotions contained in her poems
are indicative of her life's experiences.
This anthology is written by an author who has, indeed, seen
life "Through A Woman's Eyes".
Milton Taylor
Liz has
other books of verse available also. You can contact her on 07
54242174.
|
GET
YOUR BEARINGS
That
lady in the blue suit, her hair just newly styled,
She seems to be a bit confused, her eyes a little wild.
She walks towards the perfume bar but then she turns away
And stops to look at evening wear, admiring the display.
Her skin is tanned from many hours out riding on the run,
Far-seeing eyes wear wrinkles fine from squinting in the sun.
Her back is straight, her step is firm, she knows her way around,
And yet ... she seems to hesitate, uncertain of her ground.
She knows the track to every bore out on the burning plain
And if the ute gives up the ghost, you won't hear her complain.
She'll clean the carburettor out ... that's part of her work day
And if the lights aren't working, well, the stars show her the
way.
When mustering in the ranges once, a summer storm came down,
A crash of thunder spooked her horse ... he threw her on the
ground;
She walked ten miles in driving rain without a track to guide,
Now in the crowd she looks about across the human tide.
She'll track a dingo 'cross a claypan in the early morning light,
Her ears pick up a mopoke's cry, a horse bell in the night.
She sees a dust cloud miles away, the kettles on for tea,
And callers find a welcome, no matter who they be.
But wait! I know that lady! Of course I do! You see
That wall is made of mirrors and that lady there ... that's me!
And here I am without me dog ... without me fencing pliers ...
And yes, I'm lost, I'm fairly bushed ... on the second floor of
Myers.
©
Liz Ward |
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BILL
GLASSON
Bill Glasson
was born in Brisbane in 1924, and was educated at Brisbane Boys College.
He was a Jackeroo on ‘Lara Downs’ Julia Creek for two years, and at
eighteen joined the Army, later remustering to the RAAF.
Most of his life was spent managing family properties at Roma, Richmond
and Narangba. In the 1960’s he drew a block in the Moonie district and
in 1979, he and his wife Del moved to ‘Springfield’ at Pilton.
It was then that Bill began his twilight career at the age of 50, of
writing Bush Verse. He has won numerous awards including the prestigious
Bronze Swagman in 1979, and the Henry Lawson Diamond Shears in 1985.
At the age of 70 Bill was encouraged to start performing his work and he
had lots of success in many competitions, including Brisbane’s RNA.
Recently, ill health has caused him to retire and in ‘Looking Over My
Shoulder’, he recites some of his favourite poems.
The instigation for this album came from his daughters who thought he
‘should do one before he turned up his toes’. As Bill says, ‘I
haven’t been going too well lately as my prostate cancer has started
spreading, but a good doctor and lots of medication has made me feel a lot
better and so I hope to keep going for another year or two. I am in my
80th year and haven’t done too badly’.
Not able to get to many bush poetry competitions these days unless they
are close to home, Bill has lost touch with a lot of his old mates. He
hopes that this, his ‘one and only CD’ will take him back to some of
those old cobbers
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AUSTRALIA
DAY
How
lucky we are that we happened to be
born and bred where the kangaroos dwell.
And lucky are those who were born overseas,
But have made this their homeland as well.
We're surrounded by white crested surf that's so blue,
it will dazzle your eyes with it's glow.
We have country where cattle get too fat to moo
and farm land where any crops grow.
We have cities so big that a bushie like me
would get lost very quickly I fear.
In the outback, we know every face that we see,
happy faces, all filled with good cheer.
On behalf of those people, I'm sure I can say,
"We're delighted with what we have got;
With the cities and beaches a short drive away
and we live in a beautiful spot."
Now today is a very big day on our land,
for 200 and more years ago,
the First Fleet arrived, with a very mixed band
and they founded the Country we know.
It was so wild, compared to the homeland they knew,
I'm afraid they were all unimpressed.
1400 or more, soldiers, convicts and crew,
All reckoned that Blighty was best.
But as years rolled by we have all come to love
this land where the Wattle trees grow.
Where the Southern Cross guides us at night, from above,
and the temperature's seldom below.
We've had no Civil Wars or Car Bombs, thank the LORD;
we've no riots, and Laws here are fair.
though our poloticians we seldom applaud,
they're as good as you'll find anywhere.
Since the days of the gold strikes, we've blossomed and grown,
most miners decided to stay.
They found oil, coal and gas, every mineral and stone,
our top export earners today.
Our wool's No. 1, we produce lovely wine
and our sugar and wheat can't be beat.
Our boys fought when freedom was put on the line,
and they seldom have suffered defeat.
Of course we have problems, life isn't all fun,
unemployed who lost self esteem.
Public Hospitals, sadly, have all come undone;
urgent ops. are at times, just a dream.
Police numbers are down, while our crime figures climb,
but we're told it is under control.
And murderers, serving a very long time,
get out, after four years - on parole.
But 'boat people' come here risking their skin,
migrants give up the land of their birth.
They've saved up and waited, they know they will win,
here, in the best Country on Earth.
They think we're successful, they say we're O.K.
so let us not contemplate failure;
But on this great day, let us happily say,
"I thank God that my home is Australia
©Bill
Glasson |
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KELLY
DIXON
Kelly Dixon
is one of Australia's most well respected ballad writers and several of
his ballads have been set to music and recorded by leading country
artists. Kelly has on two occassions won the Golden Gumleafbush
Laureate Awards with his books From A Drifter's Pen and From Under the
Cross, and a number of bush poetry written competitions.
LEAVE
HIM IN THE LONGYARD
Leave him
out there in the longyard do not rush him,
Leave him out there with his mate the baldy bay-
Leave him there 'til after smoko, then we'll catch him,
We'll pull his tail and turn him out today.
Yes he's looking kind of jaded, and his sight is not the best-
And the hair around his muzzle's turning grey-
He has seen a hundred musters, and I think it's only fair,
That we leave him in the longyard here today.
He was broken in the sixties-maybe sixty three or four,
Never faltered- always seemed to be on hand.
Never have I seen him beaten by a bullock in the bush,
And at night-watch he was pick of all the land.
He's entitled to some kindness, in return for all he's been-
He's now failing, and his step is getting slow-
Let him squander his last summers, by the river with his mate,
In the paddock where the sweetest grasses grow.
Leave him out there in the longyard. Whoa! Don't rush him-
Leave him out there with his mate the baldy bay.
His old mate that he can graze and laze with-
We'll trim his feet and turn him out today.
Stop and see him when you ride the river paddock-
Watch this old chap now his youth has slipped away.
And do not tell me, when you have to use the rifle-
Let's have smoko boys, then turn him out today.
© Kelly
Dixon
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| JOE
DALEY
If you are
looking for an interesting writer of lyrical outback history and
Australian, none is more so than legendary Joe Daley. "Tracks I Left
behind" is Joe’s recent release and this book captures an awesome
collection of Australian outback and our Aussie character in the intricate
form of verse. A little history on Joe can be found on the back cover of
the book;
Joe
Daley was born in Broken Hill in 1927, the second of five children Joe’s
grandfather was of Irish decent which indicates where he gets his wit and
talent in fact, one of Joe’s Aunts sang with Dame Nellie Melba. Leaving
school at the age of 12 years to work on Box Hole station, then a big
Kidman cattle station about 100 miles north of the Silver City, set the
stage for Joe’s life. Better than maths and
science, Joe proceeded to absorb a varied wealth of experience over the
years, working with horse teams and cattle droving, fencing, axeman, bush
race jockey, slaughterman, boundary rider, dogger, rabbiter, roo shooter,
tank sinking, and then finally back in town as a miner and storeman.
Now retired,
Joe has become a penologist pushing nothing but his pen. Because of
Joe’s dear old folk’s influence, music and verse has always been
amongst Joe’s strongest interests. One of the most memorable moments in
Joe’s life was meeting old mate Slim Dusty. In Joe’s words,
"After meeting Slim and Joy the first time in Longreach in 1965, I
felt deeply moved when they excepted "our Jacky" later renamed
by Slim to "Trumby" when he put music to it". Twice in 1985
and again in 1997 Joe was a finalist in the writer’s awards in Tamworth
and has been recognised for his contribution to Australian Country Music
lyrics in the Hands of Fame in Tamworth and Barmera SA.]
"Tracks
I Left Behind" is without doubt a collector’s item for any lover of
Australian culture. There are many poems in the book that have been
already set to music and recorded by various artists and both Lindsay
Hammond and Gavan Arden have just released some of Joe’s poems in songs
on their new albums. But there are still many poems here that could become
the song you are looking for. There has a few copies of this book on hand
and also a ‘suitcase’ of verses waiting to be discovered.
Sadly Joe
passed away in 2006 though you can contact his family by writing to 330
Wyman Lane, Broken Hill 2880 NSW.
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CATTLE
DUST AND LEATHER
Fat
strap across the ridges to try and swing the mob
It's cattle dust and leather, flying hooves out on the job
Colt breaking, shoeing horses, making hobbles or whatever
Ingredients of stock camps - cattle dust and leather
The smell of beef and damper, tinkling of horse bells
Dry humour, fun and laughter, the yarns old-timer tell
Repairing packs and saddles, out in that never-never
Where pioneers made history in cattle dust and leather.
Droughts that scar a nation, the floods that carve it up
The waves of grass and clover, and the playful dingo pup
The sad look of the new chum now almost at his tether
Cursed the horse that threw him in cattle dust and leather
Drafting fats for stock routes that march across the land
A place of fascination as our big wide bush expands
Prime seasons and good horses, mates that stick together
Comfort in a good old sway 'twixt cattle dust and leather
The saddling up at dawing or that lively rougish nag
A meal of beef and damper rammed in the saddle bag
Crackers for a stockwhip - to hell what kind of weather
The hair will fly from piker bulls through cattle dust and leather
©
Joe Dailey |
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RAY
ROSE
Ray Rose was born in
Taroom, Queensland on the 16th December, 1936. | |
