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Memorized Poetry Category: 6 Entries


February 17, 2009

Happy 114th Birthday, Banjo Paterson

I have gathered these stories afar
In the wind and the rain,
In the land where the cattle-camps are,
On the edge of the Plain.
On the overland routes of the west,
When the watches were long,
I have fashioned in earnest and jest
These fragments of song.

They are just the rude stories one hears
In sadness and mirth,
The records of wandering years --
And scant is their worth.
Though their merits indeed are but slight,
I shall not repine
If they give you one moment's delight,
Old comrades of mine.
—A. B. "Banjo" Paterson Prelude

Source: University of Queensland (Australia) online edition of Prelude from The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses first published in 1895.
See:
> It is the birthday of the poet, journalist, and songwriter Banjo Paterson born Andrew Paterson in Narrambla, Australia in 1864. He passed away on 5 February 1941 in Sydney, Australia. See Garrison Keillor's The Writer's Almanac for Tuesday, Feb. 17, 2009
> The biography of Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson by the Australian Dictionary of Biography, Online Edition
> A wonderful article about Banjo online in the National Geograohic Magazine by Roff Smith Australia's Bard.
> He is one of my most favorite poets and I have a number of entries devoted to him here on my blog, "Consider this."
  • Clancy of the Overflow
  • Banjo's 'The Man from Ironbark'
  • Happy Birthday, Banjo Paterson (2008)
  • The Old Australian Ways
  • Flowing Beards are All the Go
  • When My Hair is Grey?
  • Mulga Bill's Bicycle
  • Happy Birthday, Mom

January 27, 2009

Lewis Carroll's Birthday

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
  The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
  The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
  Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
  And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
  Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
  He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.
—Lewis Carroll JABBERWOCKY (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

Source: David Shaw's Jabberwocky.com, and specifically his quoting of Carroll's poem The Jabberwocky.
See also: on Wikipedia, Jabberwocky
> It is Lewis Carroll's birthday. He was born Charles Lutwidge Dodgson in Cheshire, England in 1832, the author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking-Glass (1871). He died at Guildford, England on 14th January 1898.
> This is a repeat, of sorts, of an entry previously published in Consider This as Twas Brillig
> This entry is dedicated to my friend, Kit, who loves this poem, jumps with glee when I have recited in from my heart at our men's gatherings, and who was stricken down by a seizure of unknown cause on January 20, 2009. We send him tons of prayers and positive energies so that he may fully recover.

mark lewis doing his rendition of the CS Lewis poem on YouTube.com.

Posted by niganit at 7:01 AM | Comments (0)
More like this: Famous People | Humorous | Memorized Poetry | Poetry | Silly

September 5, 2008

Too Many Daves

Source: The Sneetches: And Other Stories by Dr. Seuss 1989 Random House ISBN: 0-394-80089-3 (trade)
> Read Too Many Daves online.

Clancy of the Overflow

Source: Clancy of the Overflow by A. B. Banjo Paterson, the wonderful Australian poet. This recitation is dedicated to my Mum, Minna, an Australian War Bride to the USA.

Posted by niganit at 9:07 PM | Comments (0)
More like this: Australia | Memorized Poetry | Poetry

July 25, 2008

Banjo's 'The Man From Ironbark'

This is me, Rich Wersinger, reciting The Man From Ironbark (4m21s) by A. B. Banjo Paterson, the beloved Australian poet and author.
See:
> The biography of Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson by the Australian Dictionary of Biography, Online Edition
> Online edition of The Man From Ironbark

February 17, 2008

Happy Birthday, Banjo Paterson

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
--But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of The Overflow.
—A. B. (Andrew Barton) "Banjo" Paterson

Source: A.B. Paterson: Selected Poems published 1992 by Angus & Robertson Book ISBN 0-207-1726-4
> Today, Sunday, February, 17, 2008, I recited this poem to my Mom, Minna, whilst on a visit with her (and my sister, Sue and Dave) in Houston, Texas. She was filled with emotion and was well pleased. I also recited Paterson's The Man From Ironbark and Mulga Bill's Bicycle
> Today, February 17th, is "Banjo" Paterson's birthday. He was born Andrew Barton Paterson in Narrambla, New South Wales, Australia in 1864. He died in Sydney, New South Wales Australia on February 5, 1941.
See also:
> Garrison Keillor's The Wrtier's Almanac for Sunday, February 17, 2008
> University of Queensland, Australia "Banjo" Paterson's Cancy of the Overflow First published in the The Bulletin in 1889.

Posted by niganit at 5:01 PM | Comments (0)
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