Jim Jamieson, of Tringabar [poem by Pan]

[Editor: This poem by Pan was published in The Bulletin Reciter, 1901.]

Jim Jamieson, of Tringabar.

Jim Jamieson,
Of Tringabar,
By everyone
Both near and far
Was known to be the meanest man
That e’er sold sawdust mixed with bran ;
He had a stiff-
Kneed, mangy moke,
Which looked as if
Its heart was broke ;
A nag of venerable age
But questionable parentage.

Now this same Jim,
One morning hot,
Selected him
A gun and shot,
And cantered off to try to shoot
Some wandering hare or bandicoot.

And when so far
Arrived as the
Particular
Locality
Where game abounds, he tied his horse
But just beyond a watercourse.

“You beast ! “ he said,
“You landed me
Upon my head
This morning. See !
No food or drink with my consent
Until to-night, for punishment.”

He stalked away ;
With anxious eye
His famished steed
Observed near by
A juicy pile (delicious sight !)
Of cartridges, marked “Dynamite.”

One dubious sniff
And they had passed,
Gulped down as if
The region vast
Where they reposed had ne’er before
Partaken such ambrosia.

When Jim arrived.
His gallant steed,
Although deprived
Of grassy feed,
Bulged slightly ; on his bony side
He lay, prostrate but satisfied.

A curse, a whack.
An angry snort,
A rumble; and
A loud report ! . . .
Now o’er the plains of Tringabar
Jim Jamieson lies scattered far.

Pan.



Source:
A.G. Stephens (editor). The Bulletin Reciter: A Collection of Verses for Recitation from “The Bulletin” [1880-1901], The Bulletin Newspaper Company, Sydney, 1902 [first published 1901], pages 150-152

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