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Andrew Barton Paterson [Banjo] (17 February 1864 – 5 February 1941 / New South Wales)
Poems of Andrew Barton Paterson
| 281. | White Cockatoos | 1/1/2004 |
| 282. | Who is Kator Anyhow? | 1/1/2004 |
| 283. | Why the Jackass Laughs | 1/1/2004 |
| 284. | Wisdom of Hafiz: the Philosopher Takes to Racing | 1/1/2004 |
| 285. | With French to Kimberley | 1/1/2004 |
| 286. | With French to Kimberley | 9/11/2012 |
| 287. | With the Cattle | 1/1/2004 |
Fed Up
I ain't a timid man at all, I'm just as brave as most,
I'll take my chance in open fight and die beside my post;
But riding round the 'ole day long as target for a Krupp,
A-drawing fire from Koppies -- well, I'm fair fed up.
It's wonderful how few get hit, it's luck that pulls us through;
Their rifle fire's no class at all, it misses me and you;
But when they sprinkle shells around like water from a cup
From that there blooming pom-pom gun -- well, I'm fed up.
