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Joe Wilson and His Mates

by Henry Lawson
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An incomplete glossary of Australian, British, or antique terms and concepts
which may prove helpful to understanding this book:

"A house where they took in cards on a tray" (from Joe Wilson's Courtship):
An upper class house, with servants who would take a visitor's card

(on a tray) to announce their presence, or, if the family was out,
to keep a record of the visit.

Anniversary Day: Mentioned in the text, is now known as Australia Day.
It commemorates the establishment of the first English settlement

in Australia, at Port Jackson (Sydney Harbour), on 26 January 1788.
Gin: An obvious abbreviation of "aborigine", it only refers

to *female* aborigines, and is now considered derogatory.
It was not considered derogatory at the time Lawson wrote.

Jackaroo: At the time Lawson wrote, a Jackaroo was a "new chum"
or newcomer to Australia, who sought work on a station to gain experience.

The term now applies to any young man working as a station hand.
A female station hand is a Jillaroo. Variant: Jackeroo.

Old-fashioned child: A child that acts old for their age.
Americans would say `Precocious'.

'Possum: In Australia, a class of marsupials that were originally
mistaken for possums. They are not especially related to the possums

of North and South America, other than both being marsupials.
Public/Pub.: The traditional pub. in Australia was a hotel

with a "public" bar -- hence the name. The modern pub has often
(not always) dispensed with the lodging, and concentrated on the bar.

Tea: In addition to the regular meaning, Tea can also mean
a light snack or a meal (i.e., where Tea is served).

In particular, Morning Tea (about 10 AM) and Afternoon Tea (about 3 PM)
are nothing more than a snack, but Evening Tea (about 6 PM) is a meal.

When just "Tea" is used, it usually means the evening meal.
Variant: Tea-time.

Tucker: Food.
Shout: In addition to the regular meaning, it also refers to buying drinks

for all the members of a group, etc. The use of this term can be confusing,
so the first instance is footnoted in the text.

Sly-grog-shop: An unlicensed bar or liquor-store.
Station: A farm or ranch, especially one devoted to cattle or sheep.

Store Bullock: Lawson makes several references to these.
A bullock is a castrated bull. Bullocks were used in Australia for work

that was too heavy for horses. `Store' may refer to those cattle,
and their descendants, brought to Australia by the British government,

and sold to settlers from the `Store' -- hence, the standard draft animal.
Also: a hint with the seasons -- remember that the seasons are reversed

from those in the northern hemisphere, hence June may be hot,
but December is even hotter. Australia is at a lower latitude

than the United States, so the winters are not harsh by US standards,
and are not even mild in the north. In fact, large parts of Australia

are governed more by "dry" versus "wet" than by Spring-Summer-Fall-Winter.
-- A. L.

The Author's Farewell to the Bushmen.
Some carry their swags in the Great North-West

Where the bravest battle and die,
And a few have gone to their last long rest,

And a few have said "Good-bye!"
The coast grows dim, and it may be long

Ere the Gums again I see;
So I put my soul in a farewell song

To the chaps who barracked for me.
Their days are hard at the best of times,

And their dreams are dreams of care --
God bless them all for their big soft hearts,

And the brave, brave grins they wear!
God keep me straight as a man can go,

And true as a man may be!
For the sake of the hearts that were always so,

Of the men who had faith in me!
And a ship-side word I would say, you chaps

Of the blood of the Don't-give-in!
The world will call it a boast, perhaps --

But I'll win, if a man can win!
And not for gold nor the world's applause --

Though ways to the end they be --
I'll win, if a man might win, because

Of the men who believed in me.
Contents.

Prefatory Verses --
The Author's Farewell to the Bushmen.

Part I.
Joe Wilson's Courtship.

Brighten's Sister-In-Law.
`Water Them Geraniums'.

I. A Lonely Track.
II. `Past Carin''.

A Double Buggy at Lahey's Creek.
I. Spuds, and a Woman's Obstinacy.

II. Joe Wilson's Luck.
III. The Ghost of Mary's Sacrifice.

IV. The Buggy Comes Home.
Part II.

The Golden Graveyard.
The Chinaman's Ghost.

The Loaded Dog.
Poisonous Jimmy Gets Left.

I. Dave Regan's Yarn.
II. Told by One of the Other Drovers.

The Ghostly Door.
A Wild Irishman.

The Babies in the Bush.
A Bush Dance.

The Buck-Jumper.
Jimmy Grimshaw's Wooing.

At Dead Dingo.
Telling Mrs Baker.

A Hero in Dingo-Scrubs.
The Little World Left Behind.

Concluding Verses --
The Never-Never Country.

------------------------
JOE WILSON AND HIS MATES

------------------------
Part I.

Joe Wilson's Courtship.
There are many times in this world when a healthy boy is happy.

When he is put into knickerbockers, for instance, and `comes a man to-day,'
as my little Jim used to say. When they're cooking something at home

that he likes. When the `sandy-blight' or measles breaks out
amongst the children, or the teacher or his wife falls dangerously ill

-- or dies, it doesn't matter which -- `and there ain't no school.'
When a boy is naked and in his natural state for a warm climate

like Australia, with three or four of his schoolmates,
under the shade of the creek-oaks in the bend where there's a good clear pool

with a sandy bottom. When his father buys him a gun, and he starts out
after kangaroos or 'possums. When he gets a horse, saddle, and bridle,

of his own. When he has his arm in splints or a stitch in his head --
he's proud then, the proudest boy in the district.

I wasn't a healthy-minded, average boy: I reckon I was born for a poet
by mistake, and grew up to be a Bushman, and didn't know what was the matter

with me -- or the world -- but that's got nothing to do with it.
There are times when a man is happy. When he finds out

that the girl loves him. When he's just married. When he's a lawful father
for the first time, and everything is going on all right:

some men make fools of themselves then -- I know I did.
I'm happy to-night because I'm out of debt and can see clear ahead,

and because I haven't been easy for a long time.
But I think that the happiest time in a man's life is when

he's courting a girl and finds out for sure that she loves him
and hasn't a thought for any one else. Make the most of your courting days,

you young chaps, and keep them clean, for they're about the only days
when there's a chance of poetry and beauty coming into this life.

Make the best of them and you'll never regret it the longest day you live.
They're the days that the wife will look back to, anyway,

in the brightest of times as well as in the blackest,
and there shouldn't be anything in those days that might hurt her

when she looks back. Make the most of your courting days, you young chaps,
for they will never come again.

A married man knows all about it -- after a while: he sees the woman world
through the eyes of his wife; he knows what an extra moment's

pressure of the hand means, and, if he has had a hard life,
and is inclined to be cynical, the knowledge does him no good.

It leads him into awful messes sometimes, for a married man,
if he's inclined that way, has three times the chance with a woman

that a single man has -- because the married man knows. He is privileged;
he can guess pretty closely what a woman means when she says something else;

he knows just how far he can go; he can go farther in five minutes
towards coming to the point with a woman than an innocent young man dares go

in three weeks. Above all, the married man is more decided with women;
he takes them and things for granted. In short he is --

well, he is a married man. And, when he knows all this,
how much better or happier is he for it? Mark Twain says

that he lost all the beauty of the river when he saw it with a pilot's eye, --
and there you have it.

But it's all new to a young chap, provided he hasn't been a young blackguard.
It's all wonderful, new, and strange to him. He's a different man.

He finds that he never knew anything about women. He sees none of woman's
little ways and tricks in his girl. He is in heaven one day

and down near the other place the next; and that's the sort of thing
that makes life interesting. He takes his new world for granted.

And, when she says she'll be his wife ----!
Make the most of your courting days, you young chaps, for they've got

a lot of influence on your married life afterwards -- a lot more
than you'd think. Make the best of them, for they'll never come any more,

unless we do our courting over again in another world. If we do,
I'll make the most of mine.

But, looking back, I didn't do so badly after all. I never told you
about the days I courted Mary. The more I look back the more I come to think

that I made the most of them, and if I had no more to regret
in married life than I have in my courting days, I wouldn't walk to and fro

in the room, or up and down the yard in the dark sometimes,
or lie awake some nights thinking. . . . Ah well!

I was between twenty-one and thirty then: birthdays had never been
any use to me, and I'd left off counting them. You don't take much stock

in birthdays in the Bush. I'd knocked about the country for a few years,
shearing and fencing and droving a little, and wasting my life without getting

anything for it. I drank now and then, and made a fool of myself.
I was reckoned `wild'; but I only drank because I felt less sensitive,

and the world seemed a lot saner and better and kinder
when I had a few drinks: I loved my fellow-man then and felt nearer to him.

It's better to be thought `wild' than to be considered eccentric or ratty.
Now, my old mate, Jack Barnes, drank -- as far as I could see --

first because he'd inherited the gambling habit from his father along with
his father's luck: he'd the habit of being cheated and losing very bad,

and when he lost he drank. Till drink got a hold on him.
Jack was sentimental too, but in a different way. I was sentimental

about other people -- more fool I! -- whereas Jack was sentimental
about himself. Before he was married, and when he was recovering

from a spree, he'd write rhymes about `Only a boy, drunk by the roadside',
and that sort of thing; and he'd call 'em poetry, and talk about

signing them and sending them to the `Town and Country Journal'.
But he generally tore them up when he got better. The Bush is breeding



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