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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343968" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Clancy of the Overflow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clancy of the Overflow ... </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better <br>Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, <br>He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, <br>Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow". <br>And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected, <br>(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar) <br>Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it: <br>"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy <br>Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go; <br>As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing, <br>For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him <br>In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars, <br>And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended, <br>And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy <br>Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall, <br>And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city <br>Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle <br>Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street, <br>And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting, <br>Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me <br>As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste, <br>With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, <br>For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy, <br>Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go, <br>While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal -- <br>But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow". </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Banjo Paterson</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Barton+Paterson">Andrew Barton Paterson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343968" data-title="Clancy of the Overflow de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="Clancy of the Overflow ... I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, Just "on spec", addr..."></div> </div> </div>
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