Famous Poets collection of free poems and free poetry
Home| What's New| Search Poetry| About US| E-Mail Poem a day| Privacy Policy|
Category
  Children Poems
  Englands Poets
  Fathers/ Fathers day Poems
  Friendship Poems
  General Poems
  Graduation Poems
  Humerous/ Funny Poems
  In Memoriam
  Love Poems
  Mothers/ Mothers day Poems
  Mystical/ Mythology
  Nature Poems
  Poems of Hope
  Remembrance Poems
  Scottish
  Sonnets
  Spiritual/ Religious Poems
  Spring Poems
  Summer Poems
  Thought provoking/ sad Poems
  War Poems
  Wedding Poetry
  Winter Poems
  Top Viewed Poetry
  Top rated Poetry
  All Poets
  All Poems
  Poet of the Day
  Poem of the Day
  Links
  Site Map


 
Total Views:  1128  
        Rating:  0  
This Poetry has been rated 0 times  
 
Rate This Poem:      
  
Poem Title:  Clancy Of The Overflow

Poem Category:  General Poems

Poet:  Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson

Poet Biography: 
A B Paterson (also known as Banjo)1864-1941 was an Australian poet born to Scottish parents.



Poem: 
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal


Designed & Developed By Elitesofttech

Love Poems and Love Poetry | Funny Poems and Funny Poetry | Mothers Day Poems and Mothers Day Poetry | Fathers Day Poems and Fathers Day Poetry | Free Poems and Free Poetry | Famous Poems and Famous Poetry | Childrens/Teen Poems and Childrens/Teen Poetry | Wedding Poems and Wedding Poetry | War Poems and War Poetry | Sad Poems and Sad Poetry | Friendship Poems and Friendship Poetry | Graduation Poems and Graduation Poetry