Read Online 60 Classic Australian Poems for Children by Cheng & Rogers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cheng & Rogers
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the places he had seen!
I donât know where he had not beenâ
On every road, in every town,
All through the country, up and down.
âYoung codger, shun the track,â he said.
And put his hand upon my head.
I noticed, then, that his old eyes
Were very blue and very wise.
âAy, once I was a little lad,â
He said, and seemed to grow quite sad.
I sometimes think: When Iâm a man,
Iâll get a good black billy-can
And hang some corks around my hat,
And lead a jolly life like that.
A Book for Kids , 1921
46
Tangmalangaloo
PJ Hartigan (John OâBrien)
The bishop sat in lordly state and purple cap sublime,
And galvanized the old bush church at Confirmation time.
And all the kids were mustered up from fifty miles around,
With Sunday clothes, and staring eyes, and ignorance profound.
Now was it fate, or was it grace, whereby they yarded too
An overgrown two-storey lad from Tangmalangaloo?
A hefty son of virgin soil, where nature has her fling,
And grows the trefoil three feet high and mats it in the spring;
Where mighty hills uplift their heads to pierce the welkinâs rim,
And trees sprout up a hundred feet before they shoot a limb;
There everything is big and grand, and men are giants tooâ
But Christian Knowledge wilts, alas, at Tangmalangaloo.
The bishop summed the youngsters up, as bishops only can;
He cast a searching glance around, then fixed upon his man.
But glum and dumb and undismayed through every bout he sat;
He seemed to think that he was there, but wasnât sure of that.
The bishop gave a scornful look, as bishops sometimes do,
And glared right through the pagan in from Tangmalangaloo.
âCome, tell me, boy,â his lordship said in crushing tones severe,
âCome, tell me why is Christmas Day the greatest of the year?
âHow is it that around the world we celebrate that day
âAnd send a name upon a card to those whoâre far away?
âWhy is it wandering ones return with smiles and greetings, too?â
A squall of knowledge hit the lad from Tangmalangaloo.
He gave a lurch which set a-shake the vases on the shelf,
He knocked the benches all askew, up-ending of himself.
And so, how pleased his lordship was, and how he smiled to say,
âThatâs good, my boy. Come, tell me now; and what is Christmas Day?â
The ready answer bared a fact no bishop ever knewâ
âItâs the day before the races out at Tangmalangaloo.â
Around the Boree Log and other verses , 1922
47
The Teacher
CJ Dennis
Iâd like to be a teacher, and have a clever brain,
Calling out, âAttention, please!â and âMust I speak in vain?â
Iâd be quite strict with boys and girls whose minds I had to train,
And all the books and maps and things Iâd carefully explain;
Iâd make them learn the dates of kings, and all the capes of Spain;
But I wouldnât be a teacher if â¦
I couldnât use the cane.
Would you?
A Book for Kids , 1921
48
The Teams
Henry Lawson
A cloud of dust on the long white road,
And the teams go creeping on,
Inch by inch with the weary load;
And by the power of the green-hide goad
The distant goal is won.
With eyes half-shut to the blinding dust,
And necks to the yokes bent low,
The beasts are pulling as bullocks must,
And the shining rims of the tire-rings rust
While the spokes are turning slow.
With face half-hid âneath a broad-brimmâd hat
That shades from the heatâs white waves,
And shoulderâd whip with its green-hide plat,
The driver plods with a gait like that
Of his weary, patient slaves.
He wipes his brow, for the day is hot,
And spits to the left with spite;
He shouts at âBallyâ, and flicks at âScotâ,
And raises dust from the back of âSpotâ,
And spits to the dusty right.
Heâll sometimes pause as a thing of form
In front of a lonely door,
And ask for a drink, and remark
I donât know where he had not beenâ
On every road, in every town,
All through the country, up and down.
âYoung codger, shun the track,â he said.
And put his hand upon my head.
I noticed, then, that his old eyes
Were very blue and very wise.
âAy, once I was a little lad,â
He said, and seemed to grow quite sad.
I sometimes think: When Iâm a man,
Iâll get a good black billy-can
And hang some corks around my hat,
And lead a jolly life like that.
A Book for Kids , 1921
46
Tangmalangaloo
PJ Hartigan (John OâBrien)
The bishop sat in lordly state and purple cap sublime,
And galvanized the old bush church at Confirmation time.
And all the kids were mustered up from fifty miles around,
With Sunday clothes, and staring eyes, and ignorance profound.
Now was it fate, or was it grace, whereby they yarded too
An overgrown two-storey lad from Tangmalangaloo?
A hefty son of virgin soil, where nature has her fling,
And grows the trefoil three feet high and mats it in the spring;
Where mighty hills uplift their heads to pierce the welkinâs rim,
And trees sprout up a hundred feet before they shoot a limb;
There everything is big and grand, and men are giants tooâ
But Christian Knowledge wilts, alas, at Tangmalangaloo.
The bishop summed the youngsters up, as bishops only can;
He cast a searching glance around, then fixed upon his man.
But glum and dumb and undismayed through every bout he sat;
He seemed to think that he was there, but wasnât sure of that.
The bishop gave a scornful look, as bishops sometimes do,
And glared right through the pagan in from Tangmalangaloo.
âCome, tell me, boy,â his lordship said in crushing tones severe,
âCome, tell me why is Christmas Day the greatest of the year?
âHow is it that around the world we celebrate that day
âAnd send a name upon a card to those whoâre far away?
âWhy is it wandering ones return with smiles and greetings, too?â
A squall of knowledge hit the lad from Tangmalangaloo.
He gave a lurch which set a-shake the vases on the shelf,
He knocked the benches all askew, up-ending of himself.
And so, how pleased his lordship was, and how he smiled to say,
âThatâs good, my boy. Come, tell me now; and what is Christmas Day?â
The ready answer bared a fact no bishop ever knewâ
âItâs the day before the races out at Tangmalangaloo.â
Around the Boree Log and other verses , 1922
47
The Teacher
CJ Dennis
Iâd like to be a teacher, and have a clever brain,
Calling out, âAttention, please!â and âMust I speak in vain?â
Iâd be quite strict with boys and girls whose minds I had to train,
And all the books and maps and things Iâd carefully explain;
Iâd make them learn the dates of kings, and all the capes of Spain;
But I wouldnât be a teacher if â¦
I couldnât use the cane.
Would you?
A Book for Kids , 1921
48
The Teams
Henry Lawson
A cloud of dust on the long white road,
And the teams go creeping on,
Inch by inch with the weary load;
And by the power of the green-hide goad
The distant goal is won.
With eyes half-shut to the blinding dust,
And necks to the yokes bent low,
The beasts are pulling as bullocks must,
And the shining rims of the tire-rings rust
While the spokes are turning slow.
With face half-hid âneath a broad-brimmâd hat
That shades from the heatâs white waves,
And shoulderâd whip with its green-hide plat,
The driver plods with a gait like that
Of his weary, patient slaves.
He wipes his brow, for the day is hot,
And spits to the left with spite;
He shouts at âBallyâ, and flicks at âScotâ,
And raises dust from the back of âSpotâ,
And spits to the dusty right.
Heâll sometimes pause as a thing of form
In front of a lonely door,
And ask for a drink, and remark
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