No vid but a bit of poetry

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No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by Bignuggs on Sun 04 Dec 2011, 9:48 pm

Clancy Of The Overflow

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'.

Thankyou Banjo

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Re: No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by Guest on Tue 06 Dec 2011, 10:46 am

A Classic Aussie Bush Poem Nuggs, ive done up a video of the poem by the Bushwackers, its the best
Recital of Clancy that i know of..






Crazy Pete Cool

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Re: No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by Bignuggs on Tue 06 Dec 2011, 7:05 pm

Easter 1982, Whim Creek Hotel WA. Not much to do in Karratha back then so we all went to Whim Creek pub and spent 3 days camped on what lawn they had.
An old aboriginal stockman starting twanging his geetar and starting singing his version of this poem. Man it was brilliant.
There's been a few versions put out, everyone has their own interpretation ( even the great Slim Dusty tried ) but if ya had heard what I did on that day, well what can I say. Poor bugger had to sing it again, that's how popular it was.
And what got me was, the crowd of people that were there actually shut up to listen.

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Re: No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by Guest on Tue 30 Dec 2014, 6:55 am

how time flys BY about 30 years--now its a pensioner...god help us coz nothing will save that old goat.

regards
oneday

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Re: No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by Bignuggs on Wed 07 Jan 2015, 4:17 pm

Ya had to be quick, so it was drive there on the Thursday, grab what shade you could get and hang on to ya possie coz the Mexicans from Hedland would rob ya blind  
And ya had to watch ya esky coz no one could remember who owned what after a bit of time  



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Re: No vid but a bit of poetry

Post by boobook on Wed 07 Jan 2015, 4:53 pm

A wonderful bit of nostalgia there, many thanks.
At one stage Patterson lived just outside of Orange NSW where I was told he wrote that poem. With Ophir close by, that area reeks of gold, shearers and times done somewhat tough.
My favourite poet of the era is Henry Lawson. As well of most of his published works I have an ABC cd of some of his poems set to music called "the bush by moonlight".
Often find myself of an evening, sitting out the back with a glass of rum and hot water contemplating the times those two lived in.
mike
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