Australia Day poems verses quotes

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Australia Day poems verses
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A Down Under Special Day…

Happy Australia Day to those of you way down under,
Nice to happen when it is warm and summery it is,
Hope my calendar is right or I did make a big blunder,
Just thought it nice to send to all we know down there,
A big happy hug to celebrate their special day, bet though they wonder…?
How do they know in the frozen north?
That Australia day is kinda like our fourth,
We celebrate with barbecues and fireworks,
Having off from work that day is a definite perk…
So I just wanted to send along greetings and say,
Happy Australia Day to my friends down under,
I do send you a virtual rose bouquet,
And hope that you have a wonderfully happy day…

Australia Day poems verses-poetry verse #2

This is an old land
For ever nurtured and nourished
by the spirit of the Rainbow Serpent.
The land of the Darug people,
Of the Darginung and the Dharawal,
The Gundungurra and the Guringai.

An old land.

This is the new land of the convict and the refugee,
Of the European settler,
Of the Asian and the African,
The American and the Islander.
It is the golden hope-filled land.

A hope-filled land?

This is the silent sun-baked land
Of the gibber plain and granite outcrop
Of the waterhole and the rain forest
Of native title and pastoral lease
Of skyscraper and empty reservoir.

A golden land?

This is a land battered and blackened by bush fire
But look! a land of grass trees green-shooting
in the still dark-smouldering ashes;
Of wildflowers in the sun-heat-blighted desert
And of cities glistened smog-free by an autumn wind.

A sacred land!

This is the Dreaming land, the land of spirit ancestors
Of campfire and corroboree, of rock art and cave painting
A land of mosque and temple, of prayer book and philosophy text
A land of tribal elders and politicians.

And how slowly we have learnt, 60,000 years slowly, how to live with this land
And how slowly we have learnt, 200 years slowly, not to abuse this land
And how slowly we are learning, day-by-day slowly, how to share this land.

We who are black of skin, and white and brown and yellow
And sunburnt pink
Native and newcomer
Blue-eyed and brown-eyed and black-haired and fair-haired

We will live in harmony in this land
Because this is the Land of the Rainbow Serpent
And we are the Rainbow People.

©RAF 26.01.2007

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Australia Day poems verses-poetry verse #3

WALTZING MATILDA

from a ballad by "Banjo" Patterson

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong
Under the shade of a coolabah tree
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled
Who'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me

Down came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee
And he sang as he stuffed that jumbuck in his tucker bag
You'll come a waltzing Matilda with me
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
You'll come a waltzing matilda with me
& he sang as he stuffed that jumbuck in his tucker bag
You'll come a waltzing matilda with me

Down came the Squatter mounted on his thoroughbred
Down came the troopers one, two, three
Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tuckerbag
You'll come a waltzing Matilda with me
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
You'll come a waltzing matilda with me
Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tuckerbag
You'll come a waltzing matilda with me

Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong
You'll never take me alive said he
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong
"Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me"
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me
& his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me.

________

Australia Day poems verses-poetry verse #4

MY COUNTRY
A poem by Dorothea Mackellar

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft dim skies,
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains;
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror-
The wide brown land for me!

The tragic ringbarked forests,
Stark white beneath the moon,
The sapphire misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree tops
And ferns the crimson soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart around us
We see the cattle die-
But then the grey clouds gather
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold,
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful lavish land-
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand-
Though earth holds many splendours
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country,
My homing thoughts will fly.

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Australia Day poems verses-poetry verse #5

AUSTRALIA'S NATIONAL ANTHEM
ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAIR

Australians all let us rejoice,
For we are young and free,
We've golden soil and wealth for toil;
Our home is girt by sea;
Our land abounds in nature's gifts

Of beauty rich and rare,
In history's page, let every stage
Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross
We'll toil with hearts and hands;
To make this Commonwealth of ours
Renowned of all the lands;
For those who've come across the seas
We've boundless plains to share;
With courage let us all combine
To Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.

______

Australia Day poems verses-poetry verse #6

THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER
from a ballad by "Banjo" Patterson

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girthswould stand -
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast;
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thorough bred at least
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die
There was courage in his quick Impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay.
And the old man said. "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let him come", he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough;
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stonesevery stride.
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went; they found the horses by the big mimosa clump,
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them fromthe jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel themto the right,
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made theranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.

Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp andsudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercelyanswered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wilted horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side."

When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull
It well might make the boldest hold their breath;
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down Its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
he cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough andbroken ground
Down the hillside at the racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the farther hill,
And the watchers on the mountain, standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely; he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges - but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were whitewith foam;
He followed like a bloodbound on their track,
Till they halted, cowed and beaten; then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur'
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosclusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky
And where around the Overflow the reed-beds sweep and say
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The Man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

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