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Babbling Brooks

Edward S. Sorenson

I used to know in the long ago
    A wandering band unblest,
The babbling brooks, as the shearers’ cooks
    Were called by the gangs out west.

They mustered strong when the wool was long,
    From hamlet and town and track;
“The Tropical Frog,” with his wall-eyed dog,
    And good old “Pancake Jack.”

“Ramstag and Tripe,” with his short clay pipe,
    “White Swan” and his mate ‘‘Blue Bell”—
If some were rough and their viands tough,
    They all had good tales to tell.

Old “Soldier Green,” who to India ‘d been,
    Long yarns of Bobs would spin;
Of merry whirls with the dames and girls
    “Flash Pat” for hours would chin.

Quite debonair were the stylish pair,
    “Clever Mary” and “Lady May,”
But aye to be rude to the fop and dude
    Was “Brummy the Blackguard’s” way.

A poisoner with the provender
    Was “Jimmy the Rooster” dubbed;
He was hard to shift, or to cast adrift,
    When he’d perched where the shearers grubbed.

But the slightest growl, or a sniff or scowl,
    From the Ringer, the Rep. and Co.,
As the mutton ham or the puffs and jam—
    Off “Rambling Jimmy would go!

They livened the days of the mokes and shays,
    Of the knights of the driving blades,
And battled far ere they crossed the bar
    To babble among the shades.

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