While The Billy BoilsSearchThe complete collection
Poems
Browse alphabetically, filter the collection, or search for a title, poet, theme or remembered opening phrase.
Active filters
18 poems — showing 1–18
Goldfields & work
"The Cataract."
G. H. Gibson
I stood by the trunk of a giant box1878→Love & relationships
A Candidate for an Early Grave
G. H. Gibson
What makes me wear my boots so tight,1878→City life, leisure & satire
A Peeler's Appeal
G. H. Gibson
Against the Helmet of Modern Times.1878→City & society
An Ambitious Dream
G. H. Gibson
|I walked about in Wynyard Square1878→Humour & domestic life
Christmas
G. H. Gibson
By a New Chum.1878→Shearing & humour
Epitaph on a Convivial Shearer
G. H. Gibson
Here Thompson lies—good worthy man—1878→City life, leisure & satire
Lines by a (Pawn)Broken-Hearted Youth
G. H. Gibson
Oh! take back the ticket thou gavest,1878→Society & satire
Moral Philosophy for Little Folks
G. H. Gibson
Little grains of rhubarb,1878→Bush life & character
My Mate Bill
G. H. Gibson
Jimmy the hut-keeper speaks:1901→Bush life & work
Social Evils.
G. H. Gibson
I feel that any reader who has been long-suffering enough to accompany me thus far must be craving earnestly for a change of some sort, even though it but take the form of an oasis of indifferent prose in a monotonous Sahara of verse; I want it myself, and I know that the reader must yearn for it, even as the bushman who has sojourned long among the flesh-pots of remote sheep and cattle stations yearneth after the pumpkins and cabbages of the Mongolian market gardener. I am, therefore, going to write about social evils; not because I think I can say anything particularly original or striking about them, but because I must have a subject, and I know the craving of the Colonial mind after practical ones. I commence diffidently, however; not on account of the barrenness of the theme—oh! dear no—it is its very fruitfulness which baffles me; its magnitude that appals me; its comprehensiveness which gets over me; and my inability to deal with it in such limited space which "knocks me into a cocked-hat".1878→City & society
Supernatural Revelations of a Fancy-Goods Man
G. H. Gibson
OR THE DIABOLICAL DEMON OF THE DEADLY DRAIN.1878→Bush life & society
The Ancient Shepherd
G. H. Gibson
The shadows of the River Gums1878→Love & relationships
The Butcher's Pic-nic.
G. H. Gibson
THIS event came off with an unusual amount of eclat; merchants, members of parliament, and people of all kinds, were present; and if they were not all butchers, they all became squatters when the grassy plateaux of Correy's Gardens were reached. The pic-nic took place appropriately under a ewe-tree, and fortunately the wether was remarkably fine. Saws (wise ones excepted), axes, steels, and all other implements used in the trade, were, by common consent, left behind, and the only killing done was that accomplished by several fascinating young slaughter-men, whose hair and accents were oily not to say greasy in the extreme. One of these, who went in heavily for euphuism, told his inamorata that her heart was harder than his father's block, and the satire of her tongue keener than the edge of a certain cleaver in his parent's possession.1878→Bush work & pastoral life
The Cattle Muster
G. H. Gibson
THE NIGHT CAMP.1878→Sport & satire
The Great Cricket Match
G. H. Gibson
BREWERS v. PUBLICANS.1878→Sea & travel
The Shepherd's Vengeance.
G. H. Gibson
The squatter kings of New South Wales—1878→Sea & travel
The Undertaker's Pic-nic.
G. H. Gibson
WE have a special regard for undertakers. Watching funerals was the first species of dissipation we indulged in in early youth. We have witnessed Shakesperian tragedies since with less satisfaction, and have respected undertakers proportionately in consequence. But for them we should never have known how much of the latent spirit of tragedy there is in horses' tails and feathers, and we especially admire the dramatic style in which they proclaim to the world the fact that another saint has gone to occupy his reserved seat in the celestial dress circle, or another sinner sneaked into his place in that "pit" which is notoriously bottomless, and where the free-list is by no means "confined to gentlemen of the Press."1878→Society & politics
Where Is Freedom?
G. H. Gibson
Oh! Mother, say, for I long to know,1878→