Banjo Paterson is one of my personal heroes, his writing embodies the spirit of all we hold dear in Australia. I have taken great inspiration from his poems and have collected my favourites here. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

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Andrew Barton Paterson is arguealbly Australia's best known poet (along with Henry Lawson) and his work seems every bit as fresh today as it did when it was first published. His memory is honoured on the ten dollar note and in many other ways including parks and roads bearing his name.

Paterson was born in Narambla (near Orange in New South Wales) on February 17th 1864. He was one of seven children and as he was named for his father (also Andrew) he was called by his second name at home 'Barty' (Barton).

His father was a Scot, himself the son of a Captain in the East India Company. Banjo's early years were spent on a farming property called 'Buckenbah' near Yeoval. At the age of five his family moved to Illalong.

A days ride from Illalong was the gold field at Lambing Flat, and this combined with a steady flow of travelers heading to Sydney thorugh Illalong must have been quite a source of inspiration for the young Banjo.

The gold coach passed by twice a week with an armed guard, then there were the drovers, the bullockys and their teams plus all the myriad travellers comming and going on their way to and from other major towns. This was Banjo's grounding and must have become a source for some of the characters he was later to write about.

Banjo started school at Sydney Grammar staying with his grandmother during school terms and returning to Illalong for his holidays.

At sixteen he satrted work in a solicitor's office but never seems to have been comfortable with the drudgery of city life. He was already admitted to the roll of sclicitors when in 1885 he first submitted work to the Bulletin for publishing. It was not due to his proffessional position that he decided to use a pseudonym, but because he had published a political pamphlet under his own name dealing with land reform. He was afraid that the editor might recognose his name and not even read the new work he was submitting. Thus the legend that is Banjo Paterson was born.

In 1898 he got the opportunity to write (of all things) a tourist guide on the Northern Territory. After travelling the Territory he returned to Sydney but was now very restless. The desire to cut ties with the city and return to the bush was getting very strong indeed. It was at this stage that he became the war correspondent for the Sydney Morning Herald and sailed for South Africa in 1899.

By 1902 he had completed an extended period of international adventures and returned to Sydney. Soon after getting home on a visit to Tenterfield he met and fell on love with Alice Walker. With marriage came a more settled life and his days of adventure and travel came to an end for a while. In 1914 after fathering two children, Paterson travelled to England in the hope of working as a war correspondent once again. On this occasion he was not successful and enlisted in the army instead. He worked as an ambulace driver and rose to the rank of Major. In 1917 his wife travelled out to be with him and stayed on for two years as a volunteer nurse.

They returned to Australia in 1919 where Paterson returned to writing full time. He retired in 1930 and received the Order of Commander of the British Empire in 1939.

He died at a nursing home in Sydney on February 5th 1941 at the age of 77.

He wrote mostly about Australia and the times in which he lived. His most famous work 'The Man From Snowy River' is a brilliant piece of imagery but I humbly submit that the best of all his poems was 'Clancy of the Overflow'. Well over 100 years after it was penned it is every bit as relevant today as it was the day he first wrote it down. He was paid just thirteen shillings and sixpence for it.

Presented here are poems by Banjo Paterson that I enjoy most of all. Many anthologies include all his works with no regard to which are really the best. His wonderful wordsmanship and the images he paints in the mind are almost without equal. The great love he felt for Australia shines through in almost every line. More than 60 years after his passing his words can still move the heart. His wit and wry sense of humour still make me chuckle, though I have read and re-read his verses time and time again.

I have categorised Banjo's poems under various sub-headings. To read poems in each section simply place the cursor on the menu bar at the top of the page then click on the title of the poem you want to read. If I were to ever have a tombstone (which I won't) I would have just four lines engraved upon it:

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars

These are, to me at least, the most perfect lines of poetry that have ever been written. Thank you Banjo!

Internationally Banjo's best known poem is Waltzing Matilda which is better known as a song. The modern lyrics are quite different from the original work so I have included the original poem here along with a copy of the original handwritten transcript.

WALTZING MATILDA

Oh, there once was a swagman camped in the billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he looked at the old billy boiling,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda my darling,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Waltzing Matilda and leading a waterbag,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

Down came the jumbuck to drink at the water-hole,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he put him away in his tucker-bag,
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Up came the Squatter a-ridding his thoroughbred,
Up came Policemen - one, two and three,
Whose is that jumbuck you've got in the tucker-bag,
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

The swagman he up and he jumped in the water-hole,
Drowning himself by the coolibah tree,
And his ghost may be heard as it sings by the billabong,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?