Edward George Dyson
Biography of Edward George Dyson
Edward George Dyson was an Australian poet, journalist and short story writer.
He was born at Morrisons near Ballarat in March 1865. His father, George Dyson, arrived in Australia in 1852 and after working on various diggings became a mining engineer, his mother came from a life of refinement in England. The family led a roving life during Dyson's childhood, moving successively to Alfredton, Bendigo, Ballarat and Alfredton again.
Unconsciously the boy was storing for future use the life of the miners, farmers and bushmen, among whom he lived. At 12 he began to work as an assistant to a travelling draper, after that was a whimboy in a mine, and for two or three years an assistant in a factory at Melbourne. This was followed by work in a newspaper office. At 19 he began writing verse, and a few years later embarked on a life of free-lance journalism which lasted until his death.
His first notable work was "The Golden Shanty", which appeared in the Bulletin, and many other short stories followed. In 1896 he published a volume of poems, Rhymes from the Mines, and in 1898 the first collection of his short stories, Below and On Top. In 1901 his first long story The Gold-stealers was published in London, which was followed by In the Roaring Fifties in 1906. In the same year appeared Fact'ry 'Ands, a series of more or less connected sketches dealing with factory life in Melbourne in a vein of humour. Various other stories and collections of stories were published in the Bookstall Series and will be found listed in Miller's Australian Literature. Another volume of verse Hello, Soldier! appeared in 1919.
All through the years Dyson did an enormous amount of work until he broke down under the strain and died after a long illness on 22 August 1931. He married Miss Jackson who survived him with one daughter.
Edward Dyson was the brother of Will Dyson and Ambrose Dyson.
Edward George Dyson's Works:
In the Roaring Fifties 1906
The Missing Link 1908
Tommy the Hawker and Snifter His Boy 1911
Loves of Lancelot 1914
The Escapades of Ann 1919
Short Story Collections
Below and On Top 1898
Fact'ry 'Ands 1906
Benno and Some of the Push: Being Further "Fact'ry 'Ands" Stories 1911
The Golden Shanty 1911
Spats' Fact'ry: More Fact'ry 'Ands 1914
Rhymes From the Mines 1896
"Hello, Soldier!" Khaki Verse 1919
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Edward George Dyson Poems
When the horse has been unharnessed and we've flushed the old machine, And the water o'er the sluice is running evenly and clean; When there's thirty load before us, and the sun is high and bright, And we've worked from early morning and shall have to work till night,
The Old Whim Horse
He's an old grey horse, with his head bowed sadly, And with dim old eyes and a queer roll aft, With the off-fore sprung and the hind screwed badly, And he bears all over the brands of graft;
Australia, my native land, A stirring whisper in your ear— 'Tis time for you to understand Your rating now is A1, dear.
Marching somewhat out of order when the band is cock-a-hoop, There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger of the troop,
Men Of Australia
Men of all the lands Australian from the Gulf to Derwent River, From the Heads of Sydney Harbour to the waters of the West, There’s a spirit loudly calling where the saplings dip and quiver, Where the city crowds are thronging, and the range uplifts its crest!
A Poor Joke
‘NO, you can’t count me in, boys; I’m off it— I’m jack of them practical jokes; They give neither pleasure nor profit,
The Church Bells
The Viennese authorities have melted down the great bell in St. Stephen's to supply metal for guns or muntions. Every poor village
Back again 'n' nothin' missin' barrin' arf a hand, Where an Abdul bit me, chokin' in the Holy Land.
As The Troops Went Through
I heard this day, as I may no more, The world's heart throb at my workshop door. The sun was keen, and the day was still;
A quaint old gabled cottage sleeps be- tween the raving hills. To right and left are livid strife, but on the deep, wide sills
How Herman Won The Cross
Once in a blue eternity they gave us dabs of rum To close the seams 'n' keep the flume in liquor-tight condition;
Down to it is Plugger Bill, Lyin' crumpled, white 'n' still. Me 'n' him Chips in when the scrap begins,
The boarder in the bar-room rose, A pale gaunt man who lodged with Hann, “I bear,” he said, “the worst of woes, And suffer torments no one knows,
FROM HER HOME beyond the river in the parting of the hills, Where the wattles fleecy blossom surged and scattered in the breeze,
The Old Whim Horse
He's an old grey horse, with his head bowed sadly,
And with dim old eyes and a queer roll aft,
With the off-fore sprung and the hind screwed badly,
And he bears all over the brands of graft;
And he lifts his head from the grass to wonder
Why by night and day the whim is still,
Why the silence is, and the stampers' thunder
Sounds forth no more from the shattered mill.