Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PANNIKIN POET, by ANDREW BARTON PATERSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PANNIKIN POET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: There's nothing here sublime
Last Line: About a pannikin.
Alternate Author Name(s): Paterson, 'banjo'
Subject(s): Poetry & Poets; Soul


There's nothing here sublime,
But just a roving rhyme,
Run off to pass the time,
With nought titanic in.
The theme that it supports,
And, though it treats of quarts,
It's bare of golden thoughts --
It's just a pannikin.

I think it's rather hard
That each Australian bard --
Each wan, poetic card --
With thoughts galvanic in
His fiery soul alight,
In wild aerial flight,
Will sit him down and write
About a pannikin.

He makes some new-chum fare
From out his English lair
To hunt the native bear,
That curious mannikin;
And then when times get bad
That wandering English lad
Writes out a message sad
Upon his pannikin:

'O mother, think of me
Beneath the wattle tree'
(For you may bet that he
Will drag the wattle in)
'O mother, here I think
That I shall have to sink,
There ain't a single drink
The water-bottle in.'

The dingo homeward hies,
The sooty crows uprise
And caw their fierce surprise
A tone Satanic in;
And bearded bushmen tread
Around the sleeper's head --
'See here -- the bloke is dead!
Now where's his pannikin?'

They read his words and weep,
And lay him down to sleep
Where wattle-branches sweep,
A style mechanic in;
And, reader, that's the way
The poets of today
Spin out their little lay
About a pannikin.





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