William Thomas Goodge
Biography of William Thomas Goodge
William Thomas Goodge was born in London in 1862, the son of a Law Courts clerk. and arrived in Sydney in 1882 after working his passage aboard the ship 'The Cathay' as a steward. His first job on his arrival in Sydney was with one of Cobb & Co's properties - Windagee Station in Western New South Wales.
He roamed around outback New South Wales for twelve years before settling into life as a jounalist.He began to contribute verses to the Dubbo Express and later was offered a full-time job as a reporter and writer of verse for the Lithgow Mercury. For a time he was Editor of the Orange Leader while contributing to the now famous Bulletin. For the nine years prior to his death he wrote a weekly piece for the Sydney Truth concerning the actions of an imaginery drinking group, the Gimcrack Club. During his lifetime he published only one collection of poems: Hits! Skits! and Jingles! in 1899. Norman Lindsay considered him one of Australia's best writers of light verse.
A prolific and highly respected writer, W.T. Goodge died suddenly in Sydney in 1909 aged forty seven.
This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia William Thomas Goodge; it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA.
William Thomas Goodge Poems
Ough''A Phonetic Fantasy
The baker-man was kneading dough And whistling softly, sweet and lough. Yet ever and anon he'd cough
Now Pat Ahearne, of Ingleburn Upon the Castlereagh, Was flush of cash and very "flash" As shearer-persons say.
The Great Australian Adjective
The sunburnt ---- stockman stood And, in a dismal ---- mood, Apostrophized his ---- cuddy; "The ---- nag's no ---- good,
The Australian Slanguage
"Tis the everyday Australian Has a language of his own, Has a language, or a slanguage, Which can simply stand alone.
A Bad Break
The preacher quoted, and the cranks Among his congregation smiled, "How sharper than a serpent's thanks It is to have a toothless child."
The Melodiuos Bullocky
'Tis of the Wild Colonial Boy [Come out of that saplin', Rat!] Brought up by honest parents [Now, Strawberry, what are yer at!] He robbed them lordly squatters and [Whoa Diamond! Dam yer hump!] And a terror to Horsetralia [Now then, Nugget, you mind that stump!]
'When I was a kiddy and away out-back,' Said the man with the salt-bush lingo. 'My dogs, two cattle-dogs, grey and black, They gets fair on to the blinded track
A Snake Yarn
"You talk of snakes," said Jack the Rat, "But blow me, one hot summer, I seen a thing that knocked me flat - Fourteen foot long or more than that,
Two Men And A Maid
Two little dudes from the George-street block, Up for a brief vacation! One little girl in a neat print frock, Maid of the Mulga Station!
The Guile Of Dad M'Ginnis
When M,Ginnis struck the mining camp at Jamberoora Creek His behaviour was appreciated highly; For, although he was a quiet man, in manner mild and meek, Not like ordinary swagmen with a monumental cheek,
A Matter Of Knack
Jock M'Pherson was a person who was boastful in conversin', But respectable and ponderous and dignified withal! Con M'Carty was a party who was something of a smarty, And beside the big M'Pherson looked particularly small;
The M'Camley Mixture
Jack M'Camley, Lank and long, Ox-persuader, Billabong.
How We Drove The Trotter
Oh, he was a handsome trotter, and he couldn't be completer, He had such a splendid action and he trotted to this metre, Such a pace and such a courage, such a record-killing power, That he did his mile in two-fifteen, his twenty in the hour.
Daley's Dorg 'Wattle'
"You can talk about yer sheep dorgs," said the man from Allan's Creek, "But I know a dorg that simply knocked 'em bandy! - Do whatever you would show him, and you'd hardly need to speak; Owned by Daley, drover cove in Jackandandy.
Daley's Dorg 'Wattle'
"You can talk about yer sheep dorgs," said the man from Allan's Creek,
"But I know a dorg that simply knocked 'em bandy! -
Do whatever you would show him, and you'd hardly need to speak;
Owned by Daley, drover cove in Jackandandy.
"We was talkin' in the parlour, me and Daley, quiet like,
When a blow-fly starts a-buzzin' round the ceilin',
Up gets Daley, and he says to me, 'You wait a minute, Mike,
And I'll show you what a dorg he is at heelin'.'