PATERSON, Banjo


Waltzing Matilda

Oh there once was a swagman camped in the billabongs,

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 water-bag.

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Up came the jumbuck to drink at the waterhole,

Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee;

And he sang as he put him away in his tucker-bag,

"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 water-bag.

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Up came the squatter a-riding his thoroughbred;

Up came the policeman - one, two, and three.

"Whose is the jumbuck you've got in the tucker-bag?

You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with we."

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag.

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Up sprang the swagman and jumped into the waterhole,

Drowning himself by the Coolibah tree;

And his voice can be heard as it sings in the billabongs,

"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 water-bag.

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.


Old Man Platypus

Far from the trouble and toil of town,
Where the reed beds sweep and shiver,
Look at a fragment of velvet brown–
Old Man Platypus drifting down,
Drifting along the river.

And he plays and dives in the river bends
In a style that is most elusive;
With few relations and fewer friends,
For Old Man Platypus descends
From a family most exclusive.

He shares his burrow beneath the bank
With his wife and his son and daughter
At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank;
And the bubbles show where our hero sank
To its entrance under water.

Safe in their burrow below the falls
They live in a world of wonder,
Where no one visits and no one calls,
They sleep like little brown billiard balls
With their beaks tucked neatly under.

And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl
As he goes on his journey lonely;
For he’s no relation to fish nor fowl,
Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl;
In fact, he’s the one and only!