Henry Lawson Poetry

Henry Lawson born on the Greenfell goldfields and his parents were peter
Larsen a Norwegian carpenter and Louisa a strong supporter of women s rights
The place of his berth was marked in 1924 by an obelisk which now stands under a
large gum tree planted by his daughter berth jago in grenfell NSW.
He had a very difficult childhood because his family were very poor. After school he
helped his father on building projects.His first job was an apprentice railway coach painter.
His parents separated and he moved to Sydney with his mother....

So it is a very little Introduction of Henry Lawson So now I want to show some famous poems
of Henry Lawson which are as under....

Mery Ban Jao

Said grenfell to my spirit
You have been wring very free
of the charms of other places and you don't remember me
you have claimed another native place and think its nature law
since you never paid a visit to a town you never saw
so you sing of mudgee mountains wallowed stream and grassy flat
but i put a charm upon you and you wont get over that o said grenfell
to my spirit
though you write of breezy peaks
golden gullies wattle sidings and the pools in she oak creeks
of the place your kin were born in and the childhood that you knew
and your father's distant Norway Though it has some clam on you
Though you sing of dear old mudgee and the home on pipe clay flat
you were born on greenfield goldfield and you cant get our that.

Mery Ban Jao

''Our Fathers told for bitter bread
While idlers thrived beside them

But food to eat and clothes to wear
Their native land denied them

They Left their native land in spite
Of royalties Regalia

And So they came or if they stole
Were sent out To Australia

They Struggled hard to make a home
Hard grubbing twas and clearing

They weren't troubled much with toffs
When they were porringer

And now that we have made the land
A garden full of promise

Old greed must crook his dirty hand
And Come to take it from us''

Mery Ban Jao

Now the tent poles are rotting the camp fires are dead
And the possums may gambol in trees overhead

I am humping my blucy far out on the land
And The prints of my blushers sink deep in the sand

I am out on the wallaby humping my drum
And I came by the tracks where the sun downers come.

Its nor west and west o'er  the ranges and far
to the plans where the cattle and sheep stations are
and a calico bag for my roof and the grass for my bunk
and scarcely a comrade my memory reveals
save the spiritless dingo in tow of my heels.

But I think of the honest old light of my home
when the stars hang in clusters like lumps from the dome
and I think of the hearth where the dark shadows fall

When my camp fire is built on the widest of all
But I am following fate for I know She knows best
I follow she leads and its nor west by west

When my tent is all torn and my blankets are damp
and the rising flood waters flow fast by the camp
when the cold water rises in jets from the floor

I lie in my bunk and I list to the roar
And I think how to morrow my footsteps will lag
When I tramp neath the weight of a rain sodden swag

Though the way of the swag man is mostly up hill
three are joys to be found on the wallaby still

when the day has gone by with its tramp or its toil
And your camp fire you light and your billy you boil
there is comfort and peace in the bowl of your clay

Or the yarn of a mate who is tramping that way

But beware of the town there is pison for years
In the pleasure you find in the depths of long beers
For bushman gets bushed in the streets of a town
where he loses his friends when his quench is knocked down

He is right till his pockets are empty and then
he can hump his old bluey up country again......

Mery Ban Jao

No comments

Powered by Blogger.