The Swagman's Rest - Liam Gerner (poem by Banjo Paterson) скачать в хорошем качестве

The Swagman's Rest - Liam Gerner (poem by Banjo Paterson)

taken from 'The Bulletin Debate’ Henry Lawson vs Banjo Paterson album by Liam Gerner w Luke Moller Poem by Banjo Paterson    • Видео   vinyl and download at: https://liamgerner.bandcamp.com/album... Stream album https://ditto.fm/the-bulletin-debate-... www.liamgerner.com facebook.com/LiamGerner Instagram @liamgerner Editing: Josetxu Zuazu Image Post production: Joaquin Jordan @ testarudstudio Polaroids, photos & cinematography: Tobias Titz Drawings: Laura Johnston Musicians Salianna Seven Campbell - Nyckelharpa Lucky Oceans - Pedal steel Daniel Farrugia - Drums, percussion Gavin Fitzjohn - horns (horns arrangement) Ben Franz - upright bass Liam Gerner - Guitar, Vocal Mixed by Dani Castelar, Spain Mastered by Pablo Schuller Recorded by Roger Bergodaz, Union Street Studios, Melbourne Special Thanks to Mike and Rebecca Grogan at Illalong farm NSW for their kind hospitality and delicious chutney ----- THE SWAGMAN’S REST – Banjo Patterson We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave At the foot of the Eaglehawk; We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave For fear that his ghost might walk; We carved his name on a bloodwood tree With the date of his sad decease And in place of "Died from effects of spree" We wrote "May he rest in peace". For Bob was known on the Overland, A regular old bush wag, Tramping along in the dust and sand, Humping his well-worn swag. He would camp for days in the river-bed, And loiter and "fish for whales". "I'm into the swagman's yard," he said. "And I never shall find the rails." But he found the rails on that summer night For a better place -- or worse, As we watched by turns in the flickering light With an old black gin for nurse. The breeze came in with the scent of pine, The river sounded clear, When a change came on, and we saw the sign That told us the end was near. He spoke in a cultured voice and low -- "I fancy they've 'sent the route'; I once was an army man, you know, Though now I'm a drunken brute; But bury me out where the bloodwoods wave, And, if ever you're fairly stuck, Just take and shovel me out of the grave And, maybe, I'll bring you luck. "For I've always heard --" here his voice grew weak, His strength was wellnigh sped, He gasped and struggled and tried to speak, Then fell in a moment -- dead. Thus ended a wasted life and hard, Of energies misapplied -- Old Bob was out of the "swagman's yard" And over the Great Divide. The drought came down on the field and flock, And never a raindrop fell, Though the tortured moans of the starving stock Might soften a fiend from hell. And we thought of the hint that the swagman gave When he went to the Great Unseen -- We shovelled the skeleton out of the grave To see what his hint might mean. We dug where the cross and the grave posts were, We shovelled away the mould, When sudden a vein of quartz lay bare All gleaming with yellow gold. 'Twas a reef with never a fault nor baulk That ran from the range's crest, And the richest mine on the Eaglehawk Is known as "The Swagman's Rest".