Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 7:52 pm
The shack that The 'Breaker' and Ogilvie shared ...
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Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
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Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 9:05 pm
and back then it probably looked more like this
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 6:10 am
What a great pic Mausie .... They musta built the place in the early days of culla fillum ... 
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 6:42 am
Nice photo shopping Mausie I was thinking about the plastic chairs and table plus the drums and plastic hoses.
Cheers Bob
Cheers Bob
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 7:12 am
...and the three legged mule!... 
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:29 am
... from the inside ...
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 10:23 am
What a great little hut. That light fitting looks a bit out of place though. 
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 3:36 pm
even the most humble abode is improved by a touch of refinement Heather the tacky tinsel though is over the top 
the tacky tinsel though is over the top Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 6:29 pm
... well, it IS getting close to Chrissie ...
Re: Breaker Morant & Will Ogilvie - Poet's Trek
Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2012 8:01 pm
Harry Morant by Will H. Ogilvie
First published in The Bulletin, 12 March 1947
Harry Morant was a friend I had
.... In the years long passed away,
A chivalrous, wild and reckless lad,
.... A knight born out of his day.
Full of romance and void of fears,
.... With a love of the world's applause,
He should have been one of the cavaliers
.... Who fought in King Charles's cause.
He loved a girl and he loved a horse
.... And he never let down a friend,
And reckless he was, but he rode his course
.... With courage up to the end.
"Breaker Morant" was the name he earned,
.... For no bucking horse could throw
This Englishman who had lived and learned
.... As much as the bushmen know.
Many a mile have we crossed together,
.... Out where the great plains lie,
To the clink of bit and the creak of leather --
.... Harry Morant and I.
Time and again we would challenge Fate
.... With some wild and reckless "dare,"
Shoving some green colt over a gate
.... As though with a neck to spare.
At times in a wilder mood than most
.... We would face them at naked wire,
Trusting the sight of a gidyea post
.... Would lift them a half-foot higher.
And once we galloped a steeplechase
.... For a bet -- 'twas a short half-mile
With one jump only, the stiffest place
....In a fence of the old bush style.
A barrier built of blue-gum rails
.... As thick as a big man's thigh,
And mortised into the posts -- no nails --
.... Unbreakable, four foot high.
Since both our horses were young and green
.... And had never jumped or raced,
Were we men who had tired of this earthly scene
.... We could scarce have been better placed.
"Off" cried "The Breaker," and off we went
.... And he stole a length of lead.
Over the neck of the grey I bent
.... And we charged the fence full speed.
The brown horse slowed and tried to swerve,
.... But his rider with master hand
And flaming courage and iron nerve
.... Made his lift leap and land.
He rapped it hard with ever foot
.... And was nearly down on his nose;
Then I spurred the grey and followed suit
.... And -- praise to the gods -- he rose.
He carried a splinter with both his knees
.... And a hind-leg left some skin
But we caught them up at the wliga trees
.... Sitting down for the short run-in.
The grey was game and he carried on
.... But the brown had a bit to spare;
The post was passed, my pound was gone,
.... And a laugh was all my share.
"The Breaker" is sleeping in some far place
.... Where the Boer War heroes lie,
And we'll meet no more in a steaplechase --
.... Harry Morant and I.
----
First published in The Bulletin, 12 March 1947
Harry Morant was a friend I had
.... In the years long passed away,
A chivalrous, wild and reckless lad,
.... A knight born out of his day.
Full of romance and void of fears,
.... With a love of the world's applause,
He should have been one of the cavaliers
.... Who fought in King Charles's cause.
He loved a girl and he loved a horse
.... And he never let down a friend,
And reckless he was, but he rode his course
.... With courage up to the end.
"Breaker Morant" was the name he earned,
.... For no bucking horse could throw
This Englishman who had lived and learned
.... As much as the bushmen know.
Many a mile have we crossed together,
.... Out where the great plains lie,
To the clink of bit and the creak of leather --
.... Harry Morant and I.
Time and again we would challenge Fate
.... With some wild and reckless "dare,"
Shoving some green colt over a gate
.... As though with a neck to spare.
At times in a wilder mood than most
.... We would face them at naked wire,
Trusting the sight of a gidyea post
.... Would lift them a half-foot higher.
And once we galloped a steeplechase
.... For a bet -- 'twas a short half-mile
With one jump only, the stiffest place
....In a fence of the old bush style.
A barrier built of blue-gum rails
.... As thick as a big man's thigh,
And mortised into the posts -- no nails --
.... Unbreakable, four foot high.
Since both our horses were young and green
.... And had never jumped or raced,
Were we men who had tired of this earthly scene
.... We could scarce have been better placed.
"Off" cried "The Breaker," and off we went
.... And he stole a length of lead.
Over the neck of the grey I bent
.... And we charged the fence full speed.
The brown horse slowed and tried to swerve,
.... But his rider with master hand
And flaming courage and iron nerve
.... Made his lift leap and land.
He rapped it hard with ever foot
.... And was nearly down on his nose;
Then I spurred the grey and followed suit
.... And -- praise to the gods -- he rose.
He carried a splinter with both his knees
.... And a hind-leg left some skin
But we caught them up at the wliga trees
.... Sitting down for the short run-in.
The grey was game and he carried on
.... But the brown had a bit to spare;
The post was passed, my pound was gone,
.... And a laugh was all my share.
"The Breaker" is sleeping in some far place
.... Where the Boer War heroes lie,
And we'll meet no more in a steaplechase --
.... Harry Morant and I.
----