Two Aboriginal Songs

I

Korindabria, korindabria, bogarona, bogarona. Iwariniang
iwaringdo, iwariniang, iwaringdo, iwariniang, iwaringdo,
iwariniang, iwaringdo, iwaringime. Iwaringiang, iwaringdoo,
ilanenienow,    coombagongniengowe, ilanenienow, coombagongniengowe,
ilanenienowe combagoniengowe, ilanenienimme.

II

Buddha-buddharo nianga, boomelana, bulleranga, crobinea,
narnmala, yibbilwaadjo nianga, boomelana, a, boomelana,
buddha-buddharo, nianga, boomelana, buddharo nianga,
boomelana, bulleranga,    crobinea, narnmala, yibbilwaadjo,
nianga, croilanume, a, croilanga, yibbilwaadjo, nianga,
croilanga, yibbilwaadjo, nianga croilanga, coondheranea,
tabiabina, boorganmala, yibbilwaadjo, nianga, croilanoome.

Andrew Barton Paterson

Andrew Barton Paterson, also known as Banjo Paterson, was an Australian bush poet, journalist, and author. Renowned for his poignant and humorous depictions of rural Australia, he wrote iconic works like "Waltzing Matilda" and "The Man from Snowy River." His storytelling, deeply rooted in Australian culture, has cemented his legacy as one of the nation's most beloved literary figures.

Andrew Barton Paterson

Commandeering

Andrew Barton Paterson, Simple Poetry

By The Grey Gulf-Water

Andrew Barton Paterson, Simple Poetry

Do They Know?

Andrew Barton Paterson, Simple Poetry

An Emu Hunt

Andrew Barton Paterson, Simple Poetry

Cebuano

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The Beautiful Land Of Australia

All you on emigration bent,
With home and England discontent,
Come, listen to my sad lament,
    All about the bush of Australia.
I once possessed a thousand pounds.
Thinks Ihow very grand it sounds
For a man to be farming his own grounds
    In the beautiful land of Australia.

                                Chorus

            Illawarra, Mittagong,
            Parramatta, Wollongong.
    If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
    Then go to the bush of Australia.

Upon the voyage the ship was lost.
In wretched plight I reached the coast,
And was very nigh being made a roast,
    By the savages of Australia.

And in the bush I lighted on
A fierce bushranger with his gun,
Who borrowed my garments, every one,
    For h...

Andrew Barton Paterson

The Australian Stockman

The sun peers oer you wooded ridge and thro the forest dense,
Its golden edge oer the mountain ledge looks down on the stockyard fence,
Looks down, looks down, looks down on the stockyard fence;
And dark creeks rush thro the tangled brush, when their shuddering shadows throng
Until they chime in the rude rough rhyme of the wild goburras song.

                                    Chorus

    Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the wild goburras song;
    Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the wild goburras song.

The night owl to her home hath fled, to shun the glorious pomp
Of golden day she speeds away to her nest in the tea-tree swamp;
Away, away to her nest in the tea-tree swamp.

The dingo looks with a timid stare as he...

Andrew Barton Paterson

The Man From Goondiwindi, Q.

I

This is the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.

II

This is the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.

III

These are the wealthy uncles, two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.

IV

This is the game, by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles, two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.

V

This is the trooper dressed in blue,
Who busted the game by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles, two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from ...

Andrew Barton Paterson

River Bend

    (Air: Belle Mahone.)


At River Bend, in New South Wales,
All alone among the whales,
Busting up some post and rails,
            Sweet Belle Mahone.
In the blazing sun we stand,
Cabbage-tree hat, black velvet band,
Moleskins stiff with sweat and sand,
            Sweet Belle Mahone.

                Chorus: Sweet Belle Mahone, &c.

In the burning sand we pine,
No one asks us to have a wine,
Tis a jolly crooked line,
            Sweet Belle Mahone.
When I am sitting on a log,
Looking like a great big frog,
Waiting for a Murray cod,
            Sweet Belle Mahone.

Land of snakes and cockatoos,
Native bears and big emus,
Ugly blacks and kangaroos,
            Sweet Belle Mahone.
Paddymelons by th...

Andrew Barton Paterson

Those Names

The shearers sat in the firelight, hearty and hale and strong,
After the hard day's shearing, passing the joke along:
The "ringer" that shore a hundred, as they never were shorn before,
And the novice who, toiling bravely, had tommy-hawked half a score,
The tarboy, the cook and the skushy, the sweeper that swept the board,
The picker-up, and the penner, with the rest of the shearing horde.
There were men from the inland stations where the skies like a furnace glow,
And men from Snowy River, the land of frozen snow;
There were swarthy Queensland drovers who reckoned all land by miles,
And farmers' sons from the Murray, where many a vineyard smiles.
They started at telling stories when they wearied of cards and games,
And to give these stories flavour they threw in some local names,

Andrew Barton Paterson

The Maranoa Drovers

    (Air: Little Sally Waters.)


The night is dark and stormy, and the sky is clouded oer;
    Our horses we will mount and ride away,
To watch the squatters cattle through the darkness of the night,
And well keep them on the camp till break of day.

                                    Chorus

    For were going, going, going to Gunnedah so far,
        And well soon be into sunny New South Wales;
    We shall bid farewell to Queensland, with its swampy coolibah
        Happy drovers from the sandy Maranoa.


When the fires are burning bright through the darkness of the night,
    And the cattle camping quiet, well, Im sure
That I wish for two oclock when I call the other watch
    This is droving from the sandy Maranoa.

O...

Andrew Barton Paterson