It was worth a thousand kiplings and it vanished overnight,
And it took off up the Rudyard where the kiplings often go.
So the kiplings came from everywhere preparing for the fray,
Every man who’d ever kippled, every man who knew the way,
Glinting sunlight caught the bridle of the youngest man among them
He was rather like a kipling under-sized.
But the shout that spurred them onward lifted hands and heels together
And they kippled up the Rudyard with their eyes upon the prize,
No one ever saw such kipling, ne’er were man and horse together
Nor as swift nor sure-footed as they climbed.
But the mob was kipling faster and was down the other side
And heading straight toward the Rudyard where they knew that they could hide.
And the old man wheeled and halted, standing kipling at the prospect
That his colt was gone beyond where even mountain man could ride.
And he knew, all hope receding, no one now could head the mob,
For never yet were horse and rider seen,
Who could follow once the brumbies made the treeline up the Rudyard
Kipling wild and kipling free in places man has never been.
Then a roar was heard of horses crashing through the rocks and tundra,
And the old man’s fingers tightened on the rein,
For any mob that crossed the river made the toughest alpine scrub,
That ever mountain soil could sustain.
But a new sound filled the valley as the brumbies broke their cover
And across the river tracings ran for home,
And the old man turned to Clancy and he thought he caught him smiling
When he asked him who could get down there alone.
And again the snap of whipcrack and the men could see the pack
With now a single rider gaining from the rear.
And they could hear the young man yelling, how he’d got there, no one knew,
Clancy said that he’d be buggered and he promised him a beer.
And they watched with hearts akippling for their spirits now were lifting
And they stood up in their stirrups and they cheered.
Riding flank to flank they saw him, with the fastest of the mob,
If they made the other bank the lot were gone.
But he headed them and held them and the leaders turned and halted.
They were beaten and they knew it. They were done.
And exhausted, wet and foaming they began the journey home
In the warm softness of the steeply banking sun.
There’s a green and yellow wattle to the north of Reedy Creek,
Where the air is thick with thousands of galahs,
Where the men will treat you badly but if you can turn the mob
You can tell them all to stick it up their arse.
If you’re better off without them, if you’d rather be alone,
If you can get off on your own just near the start,
If you’re too young to be frightened and you don’t know where you’re going
And you don’t mind if you rip your gear apart,
And if you can go down hillsides very near the speed of sound,
And manage somehow not to fall or hit a tree,
Then there’s every chance some bully will extend a manly grasp,
Clear his throat and tell you ‘You’re a man, my son.’
And if you can fight the impulse to be swayed by this display
And you remember his behaviour in the past
And you can learn to shake a hand while saying ‘Jab it up your arse’,
Then you’ll find the next bit easy. Walk away.
Jems Choice
Jems is one of Tasmania’s best known exports. He left Hobart with Enid Carbuncle before World War I and never went back. He got a job teaching English in Brisbane and began work on his novels. His first works were heavily criticised in the Tasmanian press and he spent the rest of his life writing one that no one would understand.THE BALLAD OF JASPER O’REILLY
Nearly recovered we are blathered here today
In the flight-path of Himself
Dijon disbanding this woman in howdy-doodiedom
Do you (insert your trained leer Mr Earwicker)
Take Anna Livia to be or not
To be your lawful dreaded life?
Eyedew.
Under you, Anna Livia, talk this man
(Insert your train here Mr Wicker)
To be your awful bedded strife?
Adieu.
If anybum nose often impedimenta
Speak Nowra four of a whole jaw-piece.
Unpack the voluminous dative case and lay out
The suit my grammar left me the mardi da,
The mither of the fither sun and noilly pratt
Parse the photo correction, lookit the faces,
Theres Dante, dont minchinbury legion,
Seether man in the hat? Boylan for the wife he is
Cant get enough off her always warm in the bed.
This hears Molly wither clothiers on
And thesis the dress under where just under there
The underwear sur prize sur prize
All stand while we observe the holy trinity
Come come now Mr Deedless do not toy with the caught
Put them on a good behaviour bond
Ant twatted he say when he touched you my child?
Pig in your porter butters this seat taken?
Nature of Inquiry;
Genuine, searching, passibly dooble onton,
Character of response;
Fellatious, mollified, deeply touched,
Dr Ring will free you now three cheers no waiting.
The fiddle he diddled the dada did
He middled the little La Scalas id
Belittled the riddle the fathers hid
Skedaddled and addled the sorters of
The muddle was on for supporters of
And all of the Murraying waters of
The hurry and worrying waters of
Lights going
Fights going
Sights going
All of the sons and daughters of
The trouble enchanted ought is off
For all of the martyred daughters of
Night.
R. A. C. V. Milne
Essayist, poet and commercial traveller, R. A. C. V. Milne wrote a number of verses for children. His best known works are still read today.THE DOG’S BREAKFAST
Bob asked Neil,
And Neil asked Susan,
Do you think that we could rustle up support for the I.D.?
Neil spoke to Susan,
Susan said ‘Certainly,
I’ll go about the countryside and see what I can see.’
So Susan she took her leave,
And went down to Tasmania,
And told them they were ignorant
And stupid as could be,
And they didn’t understand,
And the government would have its way,
The card was coming in and everybody should agree.
But the people said they didn’t,
And they couldn’t and they wouldn’t,
And they shouldn’t, it was rotten,
But that even if they did,
Who was going to have access
To the facts about the taxes?
How could anybody guarantee complete security?
So Susan went to
