Out Back Poem by Henry Lawson

Out Back

Rating: 3.2



The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
The publican's words were short and few,
and the publican's looks were black --
And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag Out Back.

For time means tucker, and tramp you must,
where the scrubs and plains are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the dust and heat -- when summer is on the track --
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet,
they carry their swags Out Back.

He tramped away from the shanty there, when the days were long and hot,
With never a soul to know or care if he died on the track or not.
The poor of the city have friends in woe, no matter how much they lack,
But only God and the swagmen know how a poor man fares Out Back.

He begged his way on the parched Paroo and the Warrego tracks once more,
And lived like a dog, as the swagmen do, till the Western stations shore;
But men were many, and sheds were full, for work in the town was slack --
The traveller never got hands in wool,
though he tramped for a year Out Back.

In stifling noons when his back was wrung
by its load, and the air seemed dead,
And the water warmed in the bag that hung to his aching arm like lead,
Or in times of flood, when plains were seas,
and the scrubs were cold and black,
He ploughed in mud to his trembling knees, and paid for his sins Out Back.

He blamed himself in the year `Too Late' --
in the heaviest hours of life --
'Twas little he dreamed that a shearing-mate had care of his home and wife;
There are times when wrongs from your kindred come,
and treacherous tongues attack --
When a man is better away from home, and dead to the world, Out Back.

And dirty and careless and old he wore, as his lamp of hope grew dim;
He tramped for years till the swag he bore seemed part of himself to him.
As a bullock drags in the sandy ruts, he followed the dreary track,
With never a thought but to reach the huts when the sun went down Out Back.

It chanced one day, when the north wind blew
in his face like a furnace-breath,
He left the track for a tank he knew -- 'twas a short-cut to his death;
For the bed of the tank was hard and dry, and crossed with many a crack,
And, oh! it's a terrible thing to die of thirst in the scrub Out Back.

A drover came, but the fringe of law was eastward many a mile;
He never reported the thing he saw, for it was not worth his while.
The tanks are full and the grass is high in the mulga off the track,
Where the bleaching bones of a white man lie
by his mouldering swag Out Back.

For time means tucker, and tramp they must,
where the plains and scrubs are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the flies and heat the men of the outside track
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet
must carry their swags Out Back.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Peter Stavropoulos 27 August 2007

Great Australian poet. The lure of the Outback is still alive today.

13 5 Reply
Kevin Straw 27 August 2009

This is a well-made poem, but this guy chose his life. He can have no complaints.

8 6 Reply
Ramesh T A 27 August 2011

Hardships of farmer and the drought of land when storm comes are wiped out mercilessly indeed though like a dog he works all day in the farm! This aspect makes this poem most absorbing and touching by the experienced pen of Henry Lawson!

10 4 Reply
Kay Staley 27 August 2014

Nice poem because of the story line. Down to earth and understandable. Lacking much dramatic emotion though; it makes it pretty realistic and formallishly old fashioned.

5 7 Reply

a very realistic picture of the life of a shearer in the Out Back.in a way it's a hard life but a free one, too.

8 2 Reply
Paul Amrod 29 October 2019

Mm I am the only poet on this round of this marvelous Welsh poet. This is a somewhat ironic poem with an existentially a expressionistic approach. I find therefore highly historical and very unusual.

0 0 Reply
Andrew Blakemore 29 October 2019

A very enjoyable read

0 0 Reply
Kingsley Egbukole 29 October 2019

A beautiful poem. Well narrated.

0 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 29 October 2018

An awesome poem with marvelous narration of the impact of scorching summer on the life of the poor. A great write indeed.

2 0 Reply
Adrian Flett 29 October 2018

A remarkable descriptive poem, that has an inevitable rhythm, of the harsh life in the Outback.

0 0 Reply
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Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson

Grenfell, New South Wales
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