POETRY SPOT

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Corny Bill

- Henry Lawson

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Some preliminary comments:

This poem by Henry Lawson was published in In the Days When the World Was Wide and Other Verses, 1896.

From:

https://allpoetry.com/Corny-Bill

This nostalgic ballad celebrates a humble swagman named Corny Bill, recalling their shared experiences of hardship and camaraderie. Lawson's language is unadorned, capturing the earthy vernacular of the bush.

Compared to Lawson's other works, "Corny Bill" is a more lighthearted and affectionate portrayal of a stock character, replacing the often harsh and unforgiving depiction of life on the wallaby. However, the poem still reflects the era's social stratification, where itinerant workers like Bill are often marginalised.

The poem's informal tone and conversational style distinguish it from the more traditional and elevated poetic conventions of the time. It offers a glimpse into the lives of those often overlooked, providing a poignant and authentic tribute to the spirit of mateship and resilience.

Terminology:

Corny: coming from Cornwall, England

Clays: clay pipes

Wallaby: “on the wallaby” means to travel the outback as a swaggie or sundowner (tramp and casual workers). “on the wallaby track” and “hump the drum” mean the same thing. ‘On the wallaby track’ is often shortened to ‘on the wallaby’, meaning wandering about on foot, whether in search of work or otherwise.

Drum: The swag carried on one’s back with one’s belongings, the travelling with one being to hump one’s drum. Also known as a bluey and as Matilda.  hence waltzing Matilda meant to ttrvel by foot carring ones belongings in a rolled up blanket on one's back.

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A sung version:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttr_BNTrBbQ

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Corny Bill

- Henry Lawson

His old clay pipe stuck in his mouth,

His hat pushed from his brow,

His dress best fitted for the South --

I think I see him now;

And when the city streets are still,

And sleep upon me comes,

I often dream that me an' Bill

Are humpin' of our drums.

I mind the time when first I came

A stranger to the land;

And I was stumped, an' sick, an' lame

When Bill took me in hand.

Old Bill was what a chap would call

A friend in poverty,

And he was very kind to all,

And very good to me.

We'd camp beneath the lonely trees

And sit beside the blaze,

A-nursin' of our wearied knees,

A-smokin' of our clays.

Or when we'd journeyed damp an' far,

An' clouds were in the skies,

We'd camp in some old shanty bar,

And sit a-tellin' lies.

Though time had writ upon his brow

And rubbed away his curls,

He always was -- an' may be now --

A favourite with the girls;

I've heard bush-wimmin scream an' squall --

I've see'd 'em laugh until

They could not do their work at all,

Because of Corny Bill.

He was the jolliest old pup

As ever you did see,

And often at some bush kick-up

They'd make old Bill M.C.

He'd make them dance and sing all night,

He'd make the music hum,

But he'd be gone at mornin' light

A-humpin' of his drum.

Though joys of which the poet rhymes

Was not for Bill an' me,

I think we had some good old times

Out on the wallaby.

I took a wife and left off rum,

An' camped beneath a roof;

But Bill preferred to hump his drum

A-paddin' of the hoof.

The lazy, idle loafers what

In toney houses camp

Would call old Bill a drunken sot,

A loafer, or a tramp;

But if the dead should ever dance --

As poets say they will --

I think I'd rather take my chance

Along of Corny Bill.

His long life's-day is nearly o'er,

Its shades begin to fall;

He soon must mount his bluey for

The last long tramp of all;

I trust that when, in bush an' town,

He's lived and learnt his fill,

They'll let the golden slip-rails down

For poor old Corny Bill.