Vietnam Veteran's Day and battle of Long Tan

Posted 7/8/09
Here's a great Aussie poem by Henry Lawson, I re-read this after the bush fires of Black Saturday. I wanted to share it with you, as the death of Sam this week made me remember, I think you'll see why. Australia is no stranger to droughts and fires and extremes of weather, regardless of whether you believe in global warming or not, (I'm still out on that one!)- we have suffered these extremes for hundreds of years, as far back as weather was recorded here. This poem epitomises Australian Mateship for me, (so revered by our Aussie Digger), the spirit of the bush and it's people, and the way city and country pull together through all our bushfire seasons - not just this recent one. Please also take the time to view the video at the end of the post. I've added links in bold to try and explain some of the unique Aussie terms used in this poem, I hope you like it as much as I do...

The Fire at Ross's Farm
The squatter saw his pastures wide
Decrease as, one by one,
The farmers, moving to the west,
Selected on his run;
Selectors took the water up
And all the black soil round;
The best grass-land the squatter had
Was spoilt by Ross's ground.

One Christmas time, when months of drought
Had parched the western creeks,
The bush fires started in the north
And travelled south for weeks.
At night along the river side
The scene was grand and strange-
The hill fires looked like lighted streets
Of cities on the range.

The cattle tracks between the trees
Were like long, dusty aisles;
And on a sudden breeze the fire
Would sweep along for miles;
Like sounds of distant musketry
It crackled through the brakes;
And o'er the flat of silver grass
It hissed like angry snakes.

It leapt across the flowing streams,
And raced o'er pastures broad;
It climbed the trees, and lit the boughs,
And through the scrub it roared.

The bees fell stifled in the smoke,
Or perished in their hives;
And with the stock the kangaroos
Went flying for their lives.

The sun had set on Christmas Eve,
When through the scrub-lands wide
Young Robert Black came riding home
As only natives ride.
He galloped to the homestead door
And gave the first alarm:
"The fire is past the granite spur
And close to Ross's farm"

"Now, father, send the men at once,
They won't be wanted here:
Poor Ross's wheat is all he has
To pull him through the year."
"Then let it burn," the squatter said;
"I'd like to see it done:
I'd bless the fire if it would clear
Selectors from the run."

"Go, if you will," He thundered on,
"You shall not take the men;
Go out and join your precious friends,
But don't come here again."
"I won't come back," young Robert said,
And, reckless in his ire,
He sharply turned his horse's head
And raced towards the fire.

And there for three long, weary hours,
Half blind with smoke and heat,
Old Ross and Robert fought the flames
That neared the ripened wheat.
The farmer's hand was nerved by fears
Of danger and of loss;
And Robert fought the stubborn foe
For love of Jenny Ross.

But serpent-like the curves and lines
Slipped past them and between,
Until they reached the bound'ry where
The Old Coach Road had been.
"The track is now our only hope;
There we must stand," cried Ross;
"For nought on earth can stop the fire
If once it gets across."

Then came a cruel gust of wind,
And, with a fiendish rush,
The flames leapt o'er the narrow path,
And lit the fence and brush.
"The crop must burn!" the farmer cried,
"We cannot save it now;"
And down upon the blackened ground
He dashed the ragged bough.

But wildly, in a rush of hope,
His heart began to beat,
For o'er the crackling fire he heard
The sound of horses' feet.

"Here's help at last," young Robert cried;
And even as he spoke
The squatter with a dozen men
Came spurring through the smoke.

Down on the ground the stockmen jumped,
And bared each brawny arm;
They tore green branches from the trees
And fought for Ross's farm;
And when before the gallant band
The beaten flames gave way,
Two grimy hands in friendship joined-
And it was Christmas Day.
Henry Lawson

A Selector was a farmer, he was allowed to select land for his farm, and they often selected land on the squatter's 'run' (where he ran his cattle or sheep), so the squatters and selectors (or farmers) were not friendly The squatter wanted the land for grazing, and the farmer wanted it for crops. The Australian horse rider is also reknowned for his riding ability, hence the line:-

The sun had set on Christmas Eve,

When through the scrub-lands wide
Young Robert Black came riding home
As only natives ride.

You will probably remember "The Man from Snowy River" written by another Australian poet Andrew Barton "Banjo" Patterson.

The poem tells the story of a valuable horse which escapes and joins a mob of wild horses, and the princely sum offered by its owner for its safe return. All the riders in the area gather to pursue the wild bush horses and cut the valuable horse from the mob. But the high country defeats them all - except for 'The Man from Snowy River'. His personal courage and riding skill has turned him into a legend.

It is thought that Paterson based the character of The Man from Snowy River on Jack Riley from Corryong, although this is often disputed with the argument put that Paterson created a composite character from a number of people he met.

Every year the Man from Snowy River festival is held in April at Corryong. It celebrates the heritage of the high country in Victoria, with Riley's Ride, bush poetry, a parade, a wine and food festival and much more.

Please take the time to view this video of the fires , it contains footage of Sam the Koala, who tragically died this week. Sam touched everyone with his trust after the way he suffered, drinking water, something Koala's never do, as they receive moisture from eating gum leaves; it makes me wonder how some people can hurt other human's without any thought, and others who needlessly make defenceless animals suffer.
Whoever lit the fires (and most of them were deliberately lit) I wonder if they now have any remorse? We should never forget the things that forge us as a nation, and draw us together. Sam was a symbol of this. I hope you have enjoyed reading this post as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As you can see I love my country!
Until my next post, Ursula. Comments:

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updated 14-12-09 10:40:43 AM

Post - Vietnam Veteran's Day In Australia