Crisscrossing gum tree trunks at Rutherglen

I was first introduced to Australian ballads by my father who loved to read the works of AB (Banjo) Paterson to us. I loved it – my father’s reading and the poems themselves. This love was reinforced in my first year of high school, through my poetry textbook, The call of the gums: An anthology of Australian verse. I treasured this book – and still have it today. It’s organised by subjects/themes, with the first two sections being “Bush songs and ballads” and “Not very serious”.

First though, the introduction. The anthology was selected by one Ian V Hansen, and he starts his brief introduction by saying that:

The world knows Australia; she produces brilliant cricketers and formidable soldiers, athletes and tennis players. But this is not all. She also exports (mostly to Britain) painters, opera principals, concert musicians, scientists … and keeps her poets at home. Which is a pity. This book is an attempt to give some Australian poets the wider school public they deserve.

I don’t know much about Ian V. Hansen, the anthologist, but his introduction gives me a little pause. I wonder how much has changed in the last five decades regarding how the rest of the world sees Australia and its (we don’t use “her” anymore, do we) achievements? Methinks not quite as much as we’d like!

Anyhow, back to the book. It seems that I started my marginalia practice quite young. In the front of the book I have written the following, clearly based on what the teacher taught us:

Ballads

1. Passed on from one man’s lips to another
2. They varied because people could not remember all the words
3. Easy rhythm that can be sung (Folk songs)
4. A lot are anonymous
5. A complete story about a happening or story
6. A lot have a chorus
7. Narrative (spoken by story-teller)

Well, a few of the ballads in the book are anonymous, they do tell stories, and I’m sure it was my love of ballads that led to my enthusiasm for folk music. While my interest in folk music now ranges widely, a good singer-songwriter telling a moving or funny story will always win me over.

Australia’s best known ballad has to be Banjo Paterson’s “Waltzing Matilda” which tells of the swagman who drowns himself in the billabong rather than be captured for stealing a sheep. It says something rather endearing I think about the Australian character that many would be happy to have this as our national anthem! It is, of course, in this anthology along with many others, including Paterson’s “Clancy of the Overflow”, Adam Lindsay Gordon’s poignant “The sick stockrider”, and Henry Lawson‘s “Andy’s gone with the cattle now”. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you their subject matter: droving was almost the universal theme of the nineteenth century Australian ballad.

Some of the ballads are tragic, and some wistful, but my favourites in this collection tend to be the funny ones, because humour in the face of adversity is often seen as an Australian trait. They celebrate ingenuity, such as Thomas E Spencer’s “How Macdougall topped the score”, or the determination of the bush to prove itself over the city, as in Banjo Paterson’s “The Geebung Polo Club”, or simply explore personality. One such is “Holy Dan” (anonymous), the story of a devout drover who, as he loses his cattle one by one to drought, continues to pray trustingly to God, until only one remains:

‘That’s nineteen thou hast taken, Lord
And now You’ll plainly see
You’d better take the bloody lot,
One’s no damn good to me.’
The other riders laughed so much
They shook the sky around;
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared,
And Holy Dan was drowned.

Another is John O’Brien’s “Said Hanrahan” who is the opposite of optimistic Dan. Hanrahan always expects the worst – and again the theme is the weather. It starts:

‘We’ll all be rooned,’ said Hanrahan
In accents most forlorn
Outside the church ere Mass began
One frosty Sunday morn.

And continues…

‘We’ll all be rooned,’ said Hanrahan,
‘If rain don’t come this week.’

Well, the rain does come but Hanrahan is still not satisfied. Rain, you see, means growth and knee-deep grass, and that means the risk of bushfires. As Hanrahan says, “We’ll all be rooned”!

“Said Hanrahan” also appears in a recent anthology, 100 Australian poems you need to know. The anthologist of this collection, Jamie Grant, writes

…it is significant that a large proportion of the poems I have chosen are distinctly funny … The most striking achievement of our culture, and the distinctive element of our national character, lies in the Australian sense of humour. That sense of humour is often described as “dry”, like the Australian landscape, but it also includes an element of cheerful exaggeration, and a liking for the reversal of expectations. It amuses Australians that our most iconic military adventure was a failure, but it also amuses us that we have produced triumphs where none was anticipated, whether through a stroke of ingenuity such as a winged keel or by winning a race by being the last left standing…

(If you don’t know what Grant is referring to in these examples, just ask the next Australian you meet. S/he is sure to know.) Meanwhile, I’ll be posting more on Australian poetry, but I wanted to start with the ones that first captured my attention… Do you have poems that you remember from childhood?

The call of the gums
(The world of English poetry)
Selected by Ian V Hansen
London: Edward Arnold (Publishers), 1962
180pp.