Victorian Open Bush Poetry Championships

JUMPING THE RATTLER
© 2008 David Campbell

“We jumped the rattler, Jimmy lad, we rode the trains for free;
we had no choice, those days were bad for Mum, my Dad and me.
Depression years were hell on earth, we lived from day to day.
We begged for work, a few bob’s worth, there was no other way.”

His voice is soft, his hands are scarred, his eyes a deep, dark blue,
and when he speaks of times so hard his words ring clear and true.
He says to me: “Those years were tough,” and slowly rocks his chair,
“but words are never quite enough to tell of our despair.

My parents wouldn’t take the dole, we called it ‘susso’ then;
I had to take an adult role when I was only ten.”
He sees my smile and lifts his hand, then quickly shakes his head.
“Don’t laugh, my boy, please understand, you’d hate the life I led!”

My Dad and I would leave at dawn and join up with the mob;
we’d stand in line while lots were drawn to see who’d get a job.
If luck was in they’d call our names, we’d do our twelve-hour day.
While you’re at school and playing games, we worked to earn our pay!

We travelled all the well-known trails, but jobs were hard to find,
so Dad and I, we rode the rails, while mum came on behind.
We chased the crops from place to place, and lived from hand to mouth.
Survival meant an endless race from Queensland right down south.

We’d pack ourselves a tuckerbag, a blanket, water, bread,
a billy and a twist of shag, some canvas for a bed.
We’d wait and hide beside the tracks until a train came by,
then when the guards had turned their backs, we’d board it on the sly.

And these trains weren’t your fancy ones, The Ghan, The Overland,
on cushy intercity runs, no, nothing quite so grand.
We had to ride the slow and old, the goods trains and their kind,
like cattle trucks, in heat or cold, whatever we could find.

We’d grab a space, and I confess, we rode the couplings too,
where just a moment’s carelessness could be the end of you.”
He turns away, his mind elsewhere, and so, to me, it seems
the threat of death and danger there still darkens all his dreams.

But then he smiles and winks at me: “Don’t worry, lad, I’m fine,
it’s just that ghosts won’t let me be, those years out on the line.
It was an awful life we led, a fight to stay alive;
those rattlers kept us clothed and fed, they helped us to survive.

But still, when all is said and done, there’s something I was shown:
don’t take this world for granted, son, for nothing’s set in stone.
My Dad and I, we won the fight, but many lost their way,
and perished in depression’s night, before the light of day.

It took my Mum, just wore her down, she lost the will to live.
She died in some sad, little town with nothing left to give.
Then on a train, I met your Gran, that moment’s still so clear,
and that’s why you’re alive today, and we’re both sitting here.”

He stops again, and in his eyes I see a hint of tears,
and that is when I realise the price of all those years.
For life means loss as well as gain, a future we must make,
and how we deal with joy and pain will set the path we take.

Too Cruel For School
© 2008 Naomi Frederick

I really do love Australia,
It is the place to be.
The wattles, the ‘roos, and cockatoos,
And the bouncing wallabies.

But one thing of Oz has left me scarred,
It should be banned for life.
School camps and excursions are NO fun,
They’re totally riddled with strife.

I know you think I’m exaggerating,
Maybe I have once or twice,
But terrorist camps are better than these,
Plainly, it’s not very nice.

These are their instruments of torture,
How could they make us wear packs?
At the best, they’re heavier than I am,
And torment my delicate back.

And how gross can you possibly get?
Toilets do not exist!
What if you’re just walking along...
And find there’s a hole that you missed.

Sure you may think, it’s not so bad, well,
You’ve really no idea.
Truthfully, the Murray’s a death hole,
With salvation nowhere near.

Rafting down rivers is not too bad,
But you move as slow as lead.
Then rowing gets hard, the suns turns hot,
And your skin goes painfully red!

Poor, poor me, dishevelled and burnt,
Force my battered body on.
Uncomplaining, enduring I be..
I can’t keep this up for long!!

I’m pretty patient, tolerant too,
But soon I’m gonna snap.
These ruddy teachers say it’s healthy,
What a giant load of ****.

We get bush tucker bowels cause o’ the food,
This awful program should be reviewed.
We get bruises and cuts, sores and pains,
It only gets worse when it rains.

And I abhor these terrible trips,
I’d happily kill for some hot chips.
I feel like a soldier who’s been laid low,
So why, oh why, why must we go?

So no more camps for little old me,
The swaggies I leave it for.
Camping’s not my thing, and we’ll leave it at that,
So goodbye, adios, no more!

By Naomi Frederick
Marong Victoria 3515
Age 13

The 2008 Victorian Open Bush Poetry Championships were held at the Benalla Bowls Club over the weekend of October 10-12.

To open the weekend, Noel Stallard held a concert on the Friday night. The audience was treated to a great variety of material, ranging from Noel’s own original poetry; contemporary poems from authors such as Bobby Miller; and traditional poems by PJ Hartigan (John O’Brien) performed in character. Perhaps the highlight of the show was Noel’s performance of the ‘Waltzing Matilda’ parody, ‘Waltzing a Ninja’.

The competition began on the Saturday morning with the Traditional Poetry section. In the men’s, the award was picked up by Jim Brown, with his performance of Henry Lawson’s, ‘Song of the Old Bullock Driver’. Tom O’Connor finished only a point behind with his performance of ‘The Coachman’s Yarn’ by EJ Brady – it was this performance that later earned him the men’s novice award. In the women’s, Jan Lewis finished first with her performance of ‘Honeymooning in the Country’ by PJ Hartigan – just a few points ahead of Carol Reffold with her performance of Hal Percy’s ‘Aussies’. Father Hartigan was not the only poet of the past to make an appearance at the championships, Banjo Paterson also made an appearance during the traditional section (John Peel as the performer).

The first competition section after lunch was the original song section. This was taken out by Jim Brown with his performance of, ‘The Message on the Wall’. Herb ‘Lummo’ Lummis finished second with, ‘Rabbit on a Shovel’ and Mark Henderson third with, ‘Give Me Water’.

The Original Poetry followed on from the Original Song. In the men’s, Jack O’Connor received his first win in an open competition with his performance of ‘Tasmanian Tiger’, just ahead of John Peel’s, ‘An Autumn Night in the Mountains’. There was another first time winner in the women’s section – this was taken out by Lynne Frederick, with ‘A Cow of a Tale’, this performance also earned her the female novice’s award. This was also the first competition that Lynne had ever competed in. Jan Lewis came in second with, ‘Scones’.

The Saturday night concert featured performances from all of the competition judges – it was a great opportunity for the competitors to see that all of the judges knew their stuff when it comes to performing. A number of poets from the competition were also feature performers for the evening. The auction that was also a feature of the concert was incredibly entertaining, although poor old Colin Carrington is probably still having nightmares about it! Overall, a fantastic amount of variety was presented to the audience on the night and from all accounts it was a very enjoyable show.

The ‘other song’ part of the music competition was contested during the Saturday concert. Jim Brown emerged victorious with ‘And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda’. Mark Henderson followed with ‘Take Me Back’ and Norm Deumer came in third with ‘The Rabbit Trapper’.

On Sunday morning the Junior competition was taken out by Naomi Frederick, the daughter of Lynne, with her performance of the Banjo Paterson classic, ‘Mulga Bill’s Bicycle’. Kyle Sparks, the grandson of Molly, was the runner-up with another of Banjo’s classics, ‘The Man from Ironbark’.

Following the junior competition, the Traditional poem section was contested. The women’s section was taken out by Jean Lindley with her rendition of Charlee Marshall’s ‘Across the Condamine’. The women’s section was so close that it came down to a judges’ decision and Carol Reffold came in second with Terry Regan’s ‘Through the Horse’s Eyes’. In the men’s section, Jim Brown’s performance of David Campbell’s ‘Hero’ placed him ahead of Tom O’Connor who performed Ted Egan’s ‘Simpson’.

The topic for the one minute poem was chosen at random from a book and tuned out to be ‘He Thundered Past’ – a great topic for a little bit of toilet humour for some of the poets. In the end this was taken out by ‘the Kiwi from Corryong’, Nadia Insall.

In terms of the championships, which were decided on the points aggregate across the three sections contested, Jan Lewis was the women’s champion with Annette Roberts runner up. Jim Brown was the men’s champion with John Peel the runner up.

Colin Carrington took out the intermediate section with his performance in the traditional section of ‘A Legend of the Dargo’ by W Long. Norm Deumer earned the encouragement award for his efforts.

David Campbell was once again successful in snaring the written championship for the forth year running with his poem, “Jumping the Rattler”. David attended the presentations on the Sunday and read the winning poem for the audience. He also managed to snare the runner up prize for the second year running with, “A Letter Home…September 1946”. Highly commended awards were received by Neil Carroll, Val Wallace, Jim Brown, Ellis Campbell and Kym Eitel (for two of her poems).

The poets’ breakfasts on Saturday and Sunday were both well attended and a great variety of poems were presented.

There were a number of new competitors entered in the competition. New faces included: Mick Widdup, Mark Henderson, Alec Moran, Lynne Frederick, Norm Deumer, Gwen Young and Paul Merrigan – so be on the look-out for these new faces at other competitions, you never know where they might pop up! It was also the first championships attended by Bob Burgess as a Victorian resident.

There were a number of competitors who had travelled from interstate to attend, it was great to see Barry and Cay Ellem from Murrumba Downs and Jean Lindley from Charter’s Towers had travelled so far to be there. Competition judge Noel Stallard also travelled a considerable distance to be there for the weekend.

Overall, it was a great weekend of entertainment. Please put it on your calendar to attend next year.