Project Gutenberg Australia
a treasure-trove of literature
treasure found hidden with no evidence of ownership

The Man From Jamberoo

Edward S. Sorenson

We were penned up on an islet up the Murrumibidgee way,
Where we’d stumbled after nightfall; then, before the break of day,
Down the peaceful-lookin’ channels we had clambered over dry,
The flood came rushin’ round us, an’ was runnin’ bankers high.
We ‘ad but a single Johnny-cake, an’ that we had to halve,
An’, as we couldn’t swim, it looked a case of drown or starve.
Three days went by, an’ then the fourth, an’ things looked pretty blue,
When there came a bearded bushman from the town of Jamberoo.

He stood upon the bank awhile, an’ gravely shook his head,
An’ absently remarked, “Ter-night will see them waters spread”—
For it had been rainin’ heavily that mornin’ up the range.
An’ if that islet wasn’t swamped he’d think it mighty strange;
He knew them billabongs around, knew how them waters ran
By the capers of the bubbles where he stooped to fill his can;
“There’s an undercurrent runnin’ that is dangerous for you,”
Was the blunt enunciation of the man from Jamberoo.

He serenely lit a fire, an’ put his billy on to boil,
An’ in a leisured manner took his bluey out of coil;
He emptied out his tucker-bag, an’ measured out his tea,
An’ stood his beef an’ damper where our hungry eyes could see.
When we beseeched him abjectly to throw a feed across,
He feebly flung a stick an’ said, “Yer see,’ twould be a loss.”
He ate his dinner peacefully and smoked a pipe or two,
In his never-hurry fashion, did the fiend from Jamberoo.

We couldn’t stand it longer, so we up an’ offered him
A pound apiece with each of us across the flood to swim
He said it was like courtin’ death to tempt that current then;
To face it twice for such a sum was underratin’ men;
He’d risk his precious carcase if we multiplied by five,
An’ if he didn’t get us o’er he’d never land alive.
We haggled an’ we argued, but we couldn’t make a do,
So we pledged our ‘ard-earued savin’s to the thief from Jamberoo.

He stripped upon the soddened bank; he looked a hero bold;
Then dipped his finger in the flood, an’ said ‘twas “purty cold;”
But suddenly he braced himself an’ cleft the water brown;
The current seized an’ spun him round, an’ thrice it sucked him down;
But still he splashed an’ spluttered on, an’ struggled to the isle
With just sufficient energy to muster up a smile.
“No mistake, that stream’s a poser, but I mean ter rescue you,”
Said the bearded Ananias-man who came from Jamberoo.

“Tie yer togs upon yer head,” he said, “an’ watch wot you’re about,
Lay still upon me back, an’ mind yer keep yer legs straight out;
Twill be touch an’ go with us, but jest you put yer faith in me,
An’, by the jumpin’ platypus, I’ll land yer safe an’ free!”
Then one by one he took us, an’ he battled hard an’ long.
Ere he got us through the whirlpools of that seethin’ billabong.
We wrung his hands an’ blessed him, an’ we wept with gladness, too,
While we vowed he was a credit to the town of Jamberoo.

He left us half his tucker, an’ we pressed him hard to stay;
But he seemed to get uneasy, an’ made haste to get away;
Then we saw the mailman comin’—right across the flooded creeks.
Yes, he landed on that island where we’d got our haggard cheeks;
Then straight across the billabong he rode his drippin’ moke,
An’, spare me days, there wasn’t need to swim a blessed stroke!
An’ now we’re huntin’ high an’ low this droughty country thro’,
For a certain base impostor who came from Jamberoo.

This site is full of FREE ebooks - Project Gutenberg Australia