Banjo Paterson

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

Banjo Paterson Poems

81. Sam Holt 9/10/2012
82. Shakespeare On The Turf 9/10/2012
83. Macbreath 9/10/2012
84. Mustering Song 9/10/2012
85. My Religion 9/10/2012
86. Song Of The Squatter 9/10/2012
87. Sunny New South Wales 9/10/2012
88. The Australian Stockman 9/11/2012
89. The Eumerella Shore 9/11/2012
90. The Free Selector 9/11/2012
91. The Freehold On The Plain 9/11/2012
92. The Great Calamity 9/11/2012
93. The Loafers' Club 9/11/2012
94. The Maranoa Drovers 9/11/2012
95. The Murrumbidgee Shearer 9/11/2012
96. The Broken-Down Squatter 9/11/2012
97. The Old Bullock Dray 9/11/2012
98. The Old Keg Of Rum 9/11/2012
99. The Old Survey 9/11/2012
100. The Plains Of Riverine 9/11/2012
101. The Sheep-Washers' Lament 9/11/2012
102. The Shepherd 9/11/2012
103. The Squatter Of The Olden Time 9/11/2012
104. The Squatter's Man 9/11/2012
105. The Stockman 9/11/2012
106. The Weather Prophet 9/11/2012
107. Wallabi Joe 9/11/2012
108. The Dry Canteen 2/22/2016
109. Two Aboriginal Songs 9/11/2012
110. The Stockmen Of Australia 9/11/2012
111. The Stringy-Bark Cockatoo 9/11/2012
112. The Overlander 9/11/2012
113. The Bushman 9/11/2012
114. The Old Bark Hut 9/11/2012
115. The Beautiful Land Of Australia 9/11/2012
116. Bringing Home The Cows 9/10/2012
117. A Thousand Miles Away 9/10/2012
118. Song Of The Wheat 1/1/2004
119. A Voice From The Town 1/1/2004
120. The Mountain Squatter 1/1/2004

Comments about Banjo Paterson

  • Chuck Norris (10/9/2014 8:00:00 PM)

    This Guy is a sick lad bruh.

    30 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • Mark Paterson (7/5/2010 2:24:00 PM)

    How right he was. Too late now. No heed was taken.

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.

[Report Error]