Let bushmen think as bushmen will, <br />And say whate’er they choose, <br />I hate to hear the stupid sneer <br />At New Chum Jackaroos. <br />He may not ride as you can ride, <br />Or do what you can do; <br />But sometimes you’d seem small beside <br />The New Chum Jackaroo. <br /> <br />His share of work he never shirks, <br />And through the blazing drought, <br />He lives the old things down, and works <br />His own salvation out. <br /> <br />When older, wiser chums despond <br />He battles brave of heart— <br />’Twas he who sailed of old beyond <br />The margin of the chart. <br /> <br />’Twas he who proved the world was round— <br />In crazy square canoes; <br />The lands you’re living in were found <br />By New Chum Jackaroos. <br /> <br />He crossed the deserts hot and bare, <br />From barren, hungry shores— <br />The plains that you would scarcely dare <br />With all your tanks and bores. <br /> <br />He fought a way through stubborn hills <br />Towards the setting sun— <br />Your fathers all and Burke and Wills <br />Were New Chums, every one. <br /> <br />When England fought with all the world <br />In those brave days gone by, <br />And all its strength against her hurled, <br />He held her honour high. <br /> <br />By Southern palms and Northern pines— <br />Where’er was life to lose— <br />She held her own with thin red lines <br />Of New Chum Jackaroos. <br /> <br />Through shot and shell and solitudes, <br />Wherever feet have gone, <br />The New Chums fought while eye-glass dudes <br />And Johnnies led them on. <br /> <br />And though he wear a foppish coat, <br />And these old things forget, <br />In stormy times I’d give a vote <br />For Cuffs and Collars yet.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-new-chum-jackeroo/
