Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE WHALER'S ODYSSEY, by C. H. WINTER First Line: I met him on the lachlan side Last Line: When he pursued that gundaroo! Alternate Author Name(s): Riverina Subject(s): Language; Story-telling; Travel; Whales; Words; Vocabulary; Journeys; Trips | ||||||||
I MET him on the Lachlan side, A nomad of the western crew; His whiskers round his waist were tied, For they were longhis Molong, too. He gazed with eyes that searched the past Through corks that dangled in a veil; And from a store of memories vast Unloaded this peculiar tale. "I mind the year'twas 'Ninety-four When first Weeopened Bogan Gate (We'd closed the blanky Bungendore) An' me an' Paroo Jack, my mate, 'Ad formed a big Cargellico Amongst a Lotto coves we knoo To find out where did Dorrigo While chasin' that there Gundaroo. "It's Odyar never heard of it 'Twas Oberon the Condamine. We couldn't get a clue to fit, So Wee Waa bushed all down the line. Then we went Gunning for a pot, As we were Broke an' Gonn an' done; We saw Young Cunnamulla shot It must ha' Bena Barringun! "Ah, lad, a hungry time we struck Along Byrock an' Bylong roads. We'd not enough to Byaduk, An' 'ardly strength to 'ump our loads. It knocked poor Dirranbandi, an' Old Sandy Hollow; for, yer see, We lived on Coonabarabran, An' Hay, an' Bunnan Capertee. "We let Condobolin the joke An' Trida lot o' points he knoo. An' then we struck a Bigga bloke A Coolamon than me or you. 'E seemed a likely sorter dag 'Wilcannia do the trick?' says I; 'You look a Mogil of the swag, A kind o' clever Gundagai.' "'Just Waitawhile,' 'e answers gruff, 'Euabalong an' weary lead.' (We Adelong one right enough!) 'You'll Nevertire if you take 'eed An' fix them swags horsecollar way Roll 'em out long an' Bendemeer, I Barham short. Uralla stray; Urana risk with dumpy gear. " 'You've Picton me, so Cooma long. No Laggan for a Nowra so. Just Toombalup an' foot it strong, We'll soon find where did Dorrigo. Don't dream of Millie or of Maude; Barellan, too, an' Nim'tabel. Cuddell your swags instead,' he jawed Behind 'im in a group we fell. "There came a Breeza 'pon our face While Moonan past the One Tree (ah, I always likes a Coolah place Especially a Coolabah!) Then heavy rain the blacksoil smote; We sank in claypans to the thigh, 'Twould surely Boggabilla goat 'Twas bad enough to Boggabri! "It Warren fair! That Burleigh coot Trundled us on without a spell Through miles o' plain, an' Parkes ter boot It gave poor old Morangorell! The Grenfell too, while black as pitch Night drove across the gloomy sky, And winds wailed like a Yarrowitch As we watched 'im an' Mungindi. "That settled it! We dropped our swags An' camped till morn broke clear and fine; An' when the leader damned our rags We slung 'im down a Narromine. 'E's down there Yetman, I've no doubt, Among the nuggets an' the sludge Some day, perhaps, I'll dig 'im out, I ain't the cove to bear a grudge." He sank to silence where he sat, That whiskered nomad of the west. I could not gather more than that Although I begged to learn the rest. Now nights of restlessness I know Trying to work the problem through: I wonder where did Dorrigo When he pursued that Gundaroo! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD, WHAT'S THAT NOISE? by RICHARD HOWARD LOOKING FOR THE GULF MOTEL by RICHARD BLANCO RIVERS INTO SEAS by LYNDA HULL DESTINATIONS by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE ONE WHO WAS DIFFERENT by RANDALL JARRELL THE CONFESSION OF ST. JIM-RALPH by DENIS JOHNSON SESTINA: TRAVEL NOTES by WELDON KEES TO H. B. (WITH A BOOK OF VERSE) by MAURICE BARING BARCOO JIM'S BATH by C. H. WINTER |
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