Banjo Paterson

(17 February 1864 – 5 February 1941 / New South Wales)

Banjo Paterson Poems

1. The Stockman 9/11/2012
2. The Weather Prophet 9/11/2012
3. Wallabi Joe 9/11/2012
4. The Dry Canteen 2/22/2016
5. The Stockmen Of Australia 9/11/2012
6. The Wallaby Brigade 9/11/2012
7. The Stockman's Last Bed 9/11/2012
8. The Swagman 9/11/2012
9. The Stringy-Bark Cockatoo 9/11/2012
10. Two Aboriginal Songs 9/11/2012
11. The Squatter's Man 9/11/2012
12. Billy Barlow In Australia 9/10/2012
13. Bold Jack Donahoo 9/10/2012
14. Bourke's Dream 9/10/2012
15. The Wild Colonial Boy 9/11/2012
16. The Great Calamity 9/11/2012
17. The Murrumbidgee Shearer 9/11/2012
18. The Old Bullock Dray 9/11/2012
19. The Old Survey 9/11/2012
20. Paddy's Letter, 1857 9/10/2012
21. The Free Selector 9/11/2012
22. The Squatter Of The Olden Time 9/11/2012
23. Macbreath 9/10/2012
24. River Bend 9/10/2012
25. Saltbush Bill, J.P. 9/10/2012
26. Song Of The Squatter 9/10/2012
27. Sunny New South Wales 9/10/2012
28. The Australian Stockman 9/11/2012
29. Sam Holt 9/10/2012
30. Shakespeare On The Turf 9/10/2012
31. Mustering Song 9/10/2012
32. My Religion 9/10/2012
33. Paddy Malone In Australia 9/10/2012
34. Flash Jack From Gundagai 9/10/2012
35. 'Shouting' For A Camel 9/10/2012
36. The Eumerella Shore 9/11/2012
37. The Plains Of Riverine 9/11/2012
38. The Sheep-Washers' Lament 9/11/2012
39. The Freehold On The Plain 9/11/2012
40. Prelude - From The Man From Snowy River And Other Verses 9/10/2012

Comments about Banjo Paterson

  • Robin C Wade (5/13/2020 11:32:00 PM)

    I love the Song of the Federation

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  • Paul Amrod Paul Amrod (4/30/2019 4:40:00 PM)

    Because I was raised on the countryside I have always enjoyed his earthy way of rendering poetry.

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Best Poem of Banjo Paterson

A Dog's Mistake

He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide,
He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside;
He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair,
With a hint of spaniel parents and a touch of native bear.
He was very poor and humble and content with what he got,
So we fed him bones and biscuits, till he heartened up a lot;
Then he growled and grew aggressive, treating orders with disdain,
Till at last he bit the butcher, which would argue want of brain.

Now the butcher, noble fellow, was a sport beyond belief,
And instead of ...

Read the full of A Dog's Mistake

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.

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