The Fact of the Matter (also known as 'The drovers in reply') is a poem by prolific Australian writer and poet
Edward Dyson (1865–1931). It was first published in The Bulletin magazine on 30 July 1892 in reply to fellow poets
Henry Lawson and
Banjo Paterson. This poem formed part of the
Bulletin Debate, a series of poems by Lawson, Paterson, and others, about the true nature of life in the Australian bush.
Background
In '
Up The Country' (9 July 1892) Lawson had criticised 'city bushmen' such as Banjo Paterson who tended to romanticise bush life. Paterson, in turn, in '
In Defence of the Bush' (23 July 1892) accused Lawson of representing bush life as nothing but doom and gloom.[1] Dyson, who grew up in
Ballarat,
Victoria, working from an early age in the mines and on the land before moving to
Melbourne, sided with Lawson, expressing the view that those who glorified country life should go and live there.
Original version
The four-line ten-stanza poem, making reference to some of Paterson's own phrases,[2] first appeared as:[3]
I’m wonderin' why those fellers who go buildin' chipper ditties,
'Bout the rosy times out
drovin', an' the dust an' death of cities,
Don't sling the bloomin' office, strike some drover for a billet,
And soak up all the glory that comes handy while they fill it.
P’r’aps it’s fun to travel cattle or to picnic with
merinos,
But the drover don’t catch on, sir, not much high-class rapture he knows.
As for sleepin' on the plains there in the shadder of the spear-grass,
That’s liked best by the Juggins with a spring-bed an' a
pier-glass.
An' the camp fire, an' the freedom, and the blanky constellations,
The 'possum-rug an' billy, an' the togs an' stale ole rations—
It’s strange they’re only raved about by coves that dress up pretty,
An' sport a wife, an' live on slap-up tucker in the city.
I’ve tickled beef in my time clear from Clarke to
Riverina,
An' shifted sheep all round the shop, but blow me if I’ve seen a
Single blanky hand who didn’t buck at pleasures of this kidney,
And wouldn’t trade his blisses for a flutter down in Sydney.
Night-watches are delightful when the stars are really splendid
To the chap who’s fresh upon the job, but, you bet, his rapture’s ended
When the rain comes down in sluice-heads, or the cuttin' hailstones pelter,
An' the sheep drift off before the wind, an' the horses strike for shelter.
Don’t take me for a howler, but I find it come annoyin'
To hear these fellers rave about the pleasures we're enjoyin',
When p’r’aps we’ve nothin' better than some fluky water handy,
An' they’re right on all the lickers—rum, an' plenty beer an' brandy.
The town is dusty, may be, but it isn’t worth the curses
'Side the dust a feller swallers an' the blinded thirst he nurses
When he’s on the hard
macadam, where the jumbucks cannot browse, an'
The wind is in his whiskers, an' he follers twenty thousan'.
This drovin' on the plain, too, it’s all O.K. when the weather
Isn’t hot enough to curl the soles right off your upper leather,
Or so cold that when the mornin' wind comes hissin' through the grasses
You can feel it cut your eyelids like a whip-lash as it passes.
^"Australiana". The West Australian. Vol. XLVII, no. 9, 110. Western Australia. 5 September 1931. p. 5. Retrieved 6 August 2019 – via National Library of Australia.
^"Literary Chit-Chat". Critic. Vol. II, no. 53. South Australia. 24 September 1898. p. 12. Retrieved 6 August 2019 – via National Library of Australia.
Wikisource has original text related to this article:
The Fact of the Matter (also known as 'The drovers in reply') is a poem by prolific Australian writer and poet
Edward Dyson (1865–1931). It was first published in The Bulletin magazine on 30 July 1892 in reply to fellow poets
Henry Lawson and
Banjo Paterson. This poem formed part of the
Bulletin Debate, a series of poems by Lawson, Paterson, and others, about the true nature of life in the Australian bush.
Background
In '
Up The Country' (9 July 1892) Lawson had criticised 'city bushmen' such as Banjo Paterson who tended to romanticise bush life. Paterson, in turn, in '
In Defence of the Bush' (23 July 1892) accused Lawson of representing bush life as nothing but doom and gloom.[1] Dyson, who grew up in
Ballarat,
Victoria, working from an early age in the mines and on the land before moving to
Melbourne, sided with Lawson, expressing the view that those who glorified country life should go and live there.
Original version
The four-line ten-stanza poem, making reference to some of Paterson's own phrases,[2] first appeared as:[3]
I’m wonderin' why those fellers who go buildin' chipper ditties,
'Bout the rosy times out
drovin', an' the dust an' death of cities,
Don't sling the bloomin' office, strike some drover for a billet,
And soak up all the glory that comes handy while they fill it.
P’r’aps it’s fun to travel cattle or to picnic with
merinos,
But the drover don’t catch on, sir, not much high-class rapture he knows.
As for sleepin' on the plains there in the shadder of the spear-grass,
That’s liked best by the Juggins with a spring-bed an' a
pier-glass.
An' the camp fire, an' the freedom, and the blanky constellations,
The 'possum-rug an' billy, an' the togs an' stale ole rations—
It’s strange they’re only raved about by coves that dress up pretty,
An' sport a wife, an' live on slap-up tucker in the city.
I’ve tickled beef in my time clear from Clarke to
Riverina,
An' shifted sheep all round the shop, but blow me if I’ve seen a
Single blanky hand who didn’t buck at pleasures of this kidney,
And wouldn’t trade his blisses for a flutter down in Sydney.
Night-watches are delightful when the stars are really splendid
To the chap who’s fresh upon the job, but, you bet, his rapture’s ended
When the rain comes down in sluice-heads, or the cuttin' hailstones pelter,
An' the sheep drift off before the wind, an' the horses strike for shelter.
Don’t take me for a howler, but I find it come annoyin'
To hear these fellers rave about the pleasures we're enjoyin',
When p’r’aps we’ve nothin' better than some fluky water handy,
An' they’re right on all the lickers—rum, an' plenty beer an' brandy.
The town is dusty, may be, but it isn’t worth the curses
'Side the dust a feller swallers an' the blinded thirst he nurses
When he’s on the hard
macadam, where the jumbucks cannot browse, an'
The wind is in his whiskers, an' he follers twenty thousan'.
This drovin' on the plain, too, it’s all O.K. when the weather
Isn’t hot enough to curl the soles right off your upper leather,
Or so cold that when the mornin' wind comes hissin' through the grasses
You can feel it cut your eyelids like a whip-lash as it passes.
^"Australiana". The West Australian. Vol. XLVII, no. 9, 110. Western Australia. 5 September 1931. p. 5. Retrieved 6 August 2019 – via National Library of Australia.
^"Literary Chit-Chat". Critic. Vol. II, no. 53. South Australia. 24 September 1898. p. 12. Retrieved 6 August 2019 – via National Library of Australia.
Wikisource has original text related to this article: