• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

The Institute of Australian Culture

Heritage, history, and heroes; literature, legends, and larrikins

  • Home
  • Articles
  • Biographies
  • Books
  • Ephemera
  • Poetry & songs
    • Recommended poetry
    • Poetry and songs, 1786-1900
    • Poetry and songs, 1901-1954
    • Rock music and pop music [videos]
    • Early music [videos]
  • Slang
  • Timeline
    • Timeline of Australian history and culture
    • Calendar of Australian history and culture
    • Significant events and commemorative dates
  • Topics

Sittin’ be the Wall [poem by John O’Brien, 1954]

25 October 2012 · Leave a Comment

[Editor: This poem by John O’Brien was published in The Parish of St Mel’s and Other Verses, 1954.]

Sittin’ be the Wall

Tickets, seven and a tanner; and the school was decorated
By the women of the parish with fal-dal-dums without end:
’Twas the Big Ball of the Season, so the priest on Sunday stated,
“And each and everyone,” said he, “is expected to attend.”
Faith, and everyone was present and Himself was looking pleasant,
And he hand-shook everybody moving round about the hall,
With a special word of greeting — and no wonder — at the meeting
Of old-timers in their Sunday clothes a-sittin’ be the wall.

Yes, it’s be the wall they’re sittin’, bent and old and very wrinkled,
Peering back across the shadows to a world they used to know;
Heth, you’d never think to see them now that fairy bells had tinkled
Haunting notes that blessed their dreaming — fifty, sixty years ago.
Yerra, thin, ’tis backward peerin’ with the last lone milepost nearin’,
And the schoolroom and electric lights fade out, and in their stead
Comes the dim oil-lamp revealing gum-boughs hanging from the ceiling
At the hop that lasted till the dawn in Gleeson’s shearing-shed.

There I noticed Johnsie Connor be the Ned McCarthys sittin’,
Just a crabbed little angashore* who once was hard as steel:
Man, ’twas him could swing the handy leg when through the lancers flittin’,
And I never met the bate of him at hornpipe, jig or reel.
There he sits a’ views the supple movement of each dancing couple —
Call it dancing? “Man, they’re walkin’ — walkin’ walkin’ round the hall,
With the misfortunate damsel backin’”; and in truth there’s nothing lacking
In the candour of the critics who are perched along the wall.

“Wisha, that big awkward gom of Shafer’s like a baboon rough and hairy
With the paws round Kitty Dooner, an’ her cheek agin his vest.”
“And that great slab Jerry Toohey with the wishiest little fairy,
And his long neck like a curlew pokin’ up above the rest.”
“There’s that lar-de-dah of Grogan’s with the flash young slip of Hogan’s
Doin’ smart things — twistin’, wrigglin’, genuflectin’; faith, ’tis said
That the divil’s in them tangos and them whirligig fandangos
Yerra, where’s the dacint leppin’ that we had in Gleeson’s shed?”

“Lookat! Hop-me-thumb McGeady with the lanky Bridgie Hardy,
And she stridin’ like an emu, and he bobbin’ like a cork
In a washtub. And Brady’s brat — haesh, the little noodie-nardie
Puts the run on Deegan’s daughter with them thin legs like a stork.”
“And the music! Och, such bangin’ of the drums and tin cans clangin’ —
And the boyoh with the trapsticks beltin’, cloutin’ — and the brawl
Of them crazy fiddlers playin’, and them quare big bugles brayin’ . . . .”
Faith, you’d get dry horrors listenin’ as you’re sittin’ be the wall.

Then the change: Man, can’t you listen! All the slambang superseding,
Like a loved voice from the days gone by a sweet old waltz-time comes.
Hark, the “quare big bugles” keening to the fiddles’ wistful pleading,
And the “boyoh with the trapsticks” tapping softly on the drums;
Man alive, ’tis spring returning. Can’t you feel the old fires burning
Can’t you see old friends assembling who are numbered with the dead?
Ah, bad cess to Time the Gleaner. ’Tis Mat Driscoll’s concertina;
And they’re dancing till the dawn again in Gleeson’s shearing-shed.

“’Tis the real thing. Let ’em try it and a turn or two will win ’em.”
“Man, that’s dancin’.” “Yerra, Grogan’s son is doin’ not too bad.”
“See young Dan and Kitty Dooner now, you’d never think ’twas in ’em.”
“Heth, and Toohey’s steppin’ kindly.” “Aye, they’re shapin’ well, bedad.”
“Sure, they’ll soon learn how to do it, if they be but stickin’ to it;
And I’m well pleased with McGeady, he’s —” “Arrah, not at all, but I tell
You Timsie Brady have the c’rect holt on the lady.
Pshaw McGeady! That man’s place is here a-sittin’ be the wall.”

“Lors, your Steve there, Ned McCarthy, he’s ’is father’s son — no other,
Yerra, thin, unless I’m dreamin’ ’tis yourself that’s dancin’ there —
And with pretty Mary Leary. Faith, you’d think it was her mother
With the amber tints a-glintin’ in the lamplight on her hair.”

“Wisha, thin, ’tis well I mind her — and no better and no kinder. . . .”
“Ayeh, many and many a year the grass is green above her bed,
But with spring’s fresh bloom upon her, an’ she danced with Johnsie Connor
No finer couple trod the floor of Paddy Gleeson’s shed.”

That’s him footering in the shadows broken, woebegone and weary —
Just a lonesome little angashore with ne’er a chick nor child —
For there’s some “meaw”* upon him since the day she married Leary,
And love has never called again nor fortune ever smiled.
But perhaps he do be dreaming as he sits there careless seeming
Of the shearing shed, the lamplight, and the amber tints and all;
Of the homing wings expanding — then the big misunderstanding —
With the old love stirring strangely, an’ he moping be the wall.

Hist! Them “quare big bugles” brayin’ like a donkey on the tether
Send the fancies slithering sideways as a smart quickstep begins,
While the boyoh with the trapsticks belting, clouting hell-for-leather
Makes amends for all the waste of time slambanging on the tins.
And the lads come searching shyly, and the critics eye them dryly,
As each selects the only one, and marches her ahead.
“Dancin’, man, it’s —” “Don’t be talkin’. Sure we did that class of walkin’
When a cork popped from a bottle at the back of Gleeson’s shed.

“There’s that big baboon of Shafer’s with the necktie all contrairy
Dartin’ straight for Kitty Dooner — faith, there’s something doin’ there.”
“And that long slab Jerry Toohey with the smallest little fairy
Tucked away beneath his oxter, an’ he marchin’ to the fair.”
“Wisha, Hop-me-thumb McGeady with the lanky lofty lady —”
“And the shiny bald head of him, and the bandy legs and all —”
“Yerra, Brady’s noodie-nardie!” “Piah, Grogan’s lar-de-dardie!”
“Pshaw, the only sane men in the world are sittin’ be the wall.”

[angashore]* A miserable little creature.
[meaw] * Ill luck.



Published in:
John O’Brien. The Parish of St Mel’s and Other Verses, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, 1954

Editor’s notes:
bedad = an Irish exclamatory oath, a euphemism for “By God”
gom = (Irish, shortened version of “gommul” or “gommel”) fool, idiot [possibly the word is of mixed Irish-English origin; see Edgar W. Schneider. Englishes around the World, Volume 1: General Studies, British Isles, North America: Studies in Honour of Manfred Görlach , John Benjamins Publishing, 1997, pages 145-146]
haesh = (unknown; presumably an exclamation) (re. “The Durkins” and “Sittin’ be the Wall” by John O’Brien)
wisha = an Irish exclamation; P. W. Joyce says that wisha is “a softening down of mossa” and defines “mossa” as “a sort of assertive particle used at the opening of a sentence, like the English well, indeed: carrying little or no meaning. ‘Do you like your new house?’ — ‘Mossa I don’t like it much.’ Another form of wisha, and both anglicised from the Irish má’seadh, used in Irish in much the same sense.”
yerra = yerra or arrah is an exclamation, a phonetic representation of the Irish airĕ, meaning take care, look out, look you — ‘Yerra Bill why are you in such a hurry?’

Filed Under: poetry Tagged With: John O'Brien (1878-1952) (author), poem, The Parish of St Mel’s and Other Verses (John O’Brien 1954)

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Primary Sidebar

Australian flag, Kangaroo, Wattle, 100hThe Institute of Australian Culture
Heritage, history, and heroes. Literature, legends, and larrikins. Stories, songs, and sages.

Search this site

Featured books

The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses, by Banjo Paterson A Book for Kids, by C. J. Dennis  The Bulletin Reciter: A Collection of Verses for Recitation from The Bulletin The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, by C. J. Dennis The Complete Inner History of the Kelly Gang and Their Pursuers, by J. J. Kenneally The Foundations of Culture in Australia, by P. R. Stephensen The Australian Crisis, by C. H. Kirmess Such Is Life, by Joseph Furphy
More books (full text)

Featured lists

Timeline of Australian history and culture
A list of significant Australiana
Significant events and commemorative dates
Australian slang
Books (full text)
Australian literature
Rock music and pop music (videos)
Folk music and bush music (videos)
Early music (videos)
Recommended poetry
Poetry and songs, 1786-1900
Poetry and songs, 1901-1954
Australian explorers
Topics
Links

Featured posts

Advance Australia Fair: How the song became the Australian national anthem
Brian Cadd [music videos and biography]
Ned Kelly: Australian bushranger
Under the Southern Cross I Stand [the Australian cricket team’s victory song]

Some Australian authors

E. J. Brady
John Le Gay Brereton
C. J. Dennis
Mary Hannay Foott
Joseph Furphy
Mary Gilmore
Charles Harpur
Grant Hervey
Lucy Everett Homfray
Rex Ingamells
Henry Kendall
“Kookaburra”
Henry Lawson
Jack Moses
“Dryblower” Murphy
John Shaw Neilson
John O’Brien (Patrick Joseph Hartigan)
“Banjo” Paterson
Marie E. J. Pitt
A. G. Stephens
P. R. Stephensen
Agnes L. Storrie (Agnes L. Kettlewell)

Recent Posts

  • To Australia [poem by Ruby Jean Stephenson, 18 November 1943]
  • [General news items] [4 April 1912]
  • [Australia has had more than its share of shipping disasters of late] [4 April 1912]
  • [Probably Professor Marshall Hall was right] [4 April 1912]
  • Gold-seekers of the Fifties [1 July 1899]

Top Posts & Pages

  • Australian slang
  • The Man from Snowy River [poem by Banjo Paterson]
  • Clancy of The Overflow [poem by Banjo Paterson]
  • The Foundations of Culture in Australia: An Essay towards National Self-Respect [by P. R. Stephensen, 1936]
  • The drover’s wife [by Henry Lawson]

Archives

Categories

Posts of note

The Bastard from the Bush [poem, circa 1900]
A Book for Kids [by C. J. Dennis, 1921]
Click Go the Shears [traditional Australian song, 1890s]
Core of My Heart [“My Country”, poem by Dorothea Mackellar, 24 October 1908]
Freedom on the Wallaby [poem by Henry Lawson, 16 May 1891]
The Man from Ironbark [poem by Banjo Paterson]
Nationality [poem by Mary Gilmore, 12 May 1942]
The Newcastle song [music video, sung by Bob Hudson]
No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest [poem by Mary Gilmore, 29 June 1940]
Our pipes [short story by Henry Lawson]
Rommel’s comments on Australian soldiers [1941-1942]
Shooting the moon [short story by Henry Lawson]

Recent Comments

  • IAC on How M’Ginnis Went Missing [poem by Banjo Paterson]
  • Stephen on How M’Ginnis Went Missing [poem by Banjo Paterson]
  • IAC on The late Louisa Lawson [by George Black, 2 October 1920]
  • Percy Delouche on Freedom on the Wallaby [poem by Henry Lawson, 16 May 1891]
  • Phil on The Man from Ironbark [poem by Banjo Paterson]

For Australia

Copyright © 2023 · Log in