The Poetry Corner

Paddy Malone In Australia

By Banjo Paterson (Andrew Barton)

Och! my names Pat Malone, and Im from Tipperary. Sure, I dont know it now Im so bothered, Ohone! And the gals that I danced with, light-hearted and airy, Its scarcely theyd notice poor Paddy Malone. Tis twelve months or more since our ship she cast anchor In happy Australia, the Emigrants home, And from that day to this theres been nothing but canker, And grafe and vexation for Paddy Malone. Oh, Paddy Malone! Oh, Paddy, Ohone! Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam. Wid a man called a squatter I soon got a place, sure, Hed a beard like a goat, and such whiskers, Ohone! And he saidas he peeped through the hair on his faitures That he liked the appearance of Paddy Malone. Wid him I agreed to go up to his station, Saying abroad in the bush youll find yourself at home. I liked his proposal, and out hesitation Signed my name wid a X that spelt Paddy Malone. Oh, Paddy Malone, youre no scholard, Ohone! Sure, I made a cris-crass that spelt Paddy Malone. A-herding my sheep in the bush, as they call it It was no bush at all, but a mighty great wood, Wid all the big trees that were small bushes one time, A long time ago, faith I spose fore the flood. To find out this big bush one day I went further, The trees grew so thick that I couldnt, Ohone! I tried to go back then, but that I found harder, And bothered and lost was poor Paddy Malone. Oh, Paddy Malone, through the bush he did roam What a Babe in the Wood was poor Paddy Malone. I was soon overcome, sure, wid grafe and vexation, And camped, you must know, by the side of a log; I was found the next day by a man from the station, For I coo-eyd and roared like a bull in a bog. The man said to me, Arrah, Pat! wheres the sheep now? Says I, I dunno! barring one here at home, And the master began and kicked up a big row too, And swore hed stop the wages of Paddy Malone. Arrah! Paddy Malone, youre no shepherd, Ohone! Well try you with bullocks now, Paddy Malone. To see me dressed out with my team and my dray too, Wid a whip like a flail and such gaiters, Ohone! But the bullocks, as they eyed me, they seemed for to say too, You may do your best, Paddy, were blest if we go. Gee whoa! Redman! come hither, Damper! Hoot, Magpie! Gee, Blackbird! Come hither, Whalebone! But the brutes turned round sharp, and away they did scamper, And heels over head turned poor Paddy Malone. Oh, Paddy Malone! youve seen some bulls at home, But the bulls of Australia cows Paddy Malone. I was found the next day where the brutes they did throw me By a man passing by, upon hearing me groan, And wiping the mud from my face that he knew me, Says he, Your names Paddy? Yes! Paddy Malone. I thin says to him, Youre an angel sent down, sure! No, faith, but Im not; but a friend of your own! And by his persuasion, for home then I started, And you now see before you poor Paddy Malone. Arrah, Paddy Malone! you are now safe at home. Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam.