Poems by A B Banjo Paterson

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It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,

He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.

He loitered here he loitered there, till he was like to drop,

Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's shop.

"Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of mark,

I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark."

The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly are,

He wore a strike-your-fancy sash he smoked a huge cigar;

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.