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The Andrew B. 'Banjo' Paterson
Poetry Library
Passing of Gundagai
Andrew Barton �Banjo� Paterson
[ Historical Note: The Sheep Shearing
Crew could be pretty �rough� ]
"I�LL introdooce a friend!" he said,
"And if you�ve got a vacant pen
You�d better take him in the shed
And start him shearing straight ahead,
He�s one of these here quiet men.
"He never strikes�that ain�t his game;
No matter what the others try
He goes on shearing just the same.
I never rightly knew his name�
We always call him �Gundagai�!"
Our flashest shearer then had gone
To train a racehorse for a race,
And while his sporting fit was on
He couldn�t be relied upon,
So �Gundagai� shore in his place.
Alas for man�s veracity!
For reputations false and true!
This �Gundagai� turned out to be,
For strife and all-round villainy,
The very worst I ever knew!
He started racing Jack Devine,
And grumbled when I made him stop.
The pace he showed was extra fine,
But all those pure-bred ewes of mine
Were bleeding like a butcher�s shop.
He cursed the sheep, he cursed the shed,
From roof to rafter, floor to shelf;
As for my mongrel ewes, he said,
I ought to get a razor blade
And shave the blooming things myself.
On Sundays he controlled a "school",
And played "two-up" the livelong day;
And many a young confiding fool
He shore of his financial wool;
And when he lost he would not pay.
He organised a shearers� race,
And "touched" me to provide the prize.
His packhorse showed surprising pace
And won hands down�he was The Ace,
A well-known racehorse in disguise.
Next day the bruiser of the shed
Displayed an opal-tinted eye,
With large contusions on his head.
He smiled a sickly smile, and said
He�d "had a cut at Gundagai!"
But just as we were getting full
Of �Gundagai� and all his ways,
A telegram for "Henry Bull"
Arrived. Said he, "That�s me�all wool!
Let�s see what this here message says."
He opened it, his face grew white,
He dropped the shears and turned away.
It ran, "Your wife took bad last night;
Come home at once�no time to write,
We fear she may not last the day."
He got his cheque�I didn�t care
To dock him for my mangled ewes;
His store account�we �called it square�.
Poor wretch! he had enough to bear,
Confronted by such dreadful news.
The shearers raised a little purse
To help a mate, as shearers will,
"To pay the doctor and the nurse,
And if there should be something worse �
To pay the undertaker�s bill."
They wrung his hand in sympathy,
He rode away without a word,
His head hung down in misery.
A wandering hawker passing by
Was told of what had just occurred. "
Well! that�s a curious thing," he said,
"I�ve known that feller all his life�
He�s had the loan of this here shed!
I know his wife ain�t nearly dead,
Because he hasn�t got a wife!"
. . . . .
You should have heard the whipcord crack
As angry shearers galloped by,
In vain they tried to fetch him back.
A little dust along the track
Was all they saw of �Gundagai�.
Poetry
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