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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344062" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song Of The Squatter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won;<br>So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run;<br>For he said I was making a fortune too fast,<br>And profit gained slower the longer would last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He remarked as devouring my mutton he sat,<br>That I suffered my sheep to grow sadly too fat;<br>That they wasted waste land, did prerogative brown,<br>And rebelliously nibbled the droits of the Crown;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the creek that divided my station in two<br>Showed that Nature designed that two fees should be due.<br>Mr. Riddle assured me 'twas paid but for show;<br>But he kept it and spent it; that's all that I know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Commissioner fined me because I forgot<br>To return an old ewe that was ill of the rot,<br>And a poor wry-necked lamb that we kept for a pet;<br>And he said it was treason such things to forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Commissioner pounded my cattle because<br>They had mumbled the scrub with their famishing jaws<br>On the part of the run he had taken away;<br>And he sold them by auction the costs to defray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Border Police they were out all the day<br>To look for some thieves who had ransacked my dray;<br>But the thieves they continued in quiet and peace,<br>For they'd robbed it themselves—had the Border Police!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the white thieves had left me the black thieves appeared,<br>My shepherds they waddied, my cattle they speared;<br>But for fear of my licence I said not a word,<br>For I knew it was gone if the Government heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Commissioner's bosom with anger was filled<br>Against me because my poor shepherd was killed;<br>So he straight took away the last third of my run,<br>And got it transferred to the name of his son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The son had from Cambridge been lately expelled,<br>And his licence for preaching most justly withheld!<br>But this is no cause, the Commissioner says,<br>Why he should not be fit for a licence to graze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cattle that had not been sold at the pound<br>He took with the run at five shillings all round;<br>And the sheep the blacks left me at sixpence a head<br>&quot;A very good price,&quot; the Commissioner said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Governor told me I justly was served,<br>That Commissioners never from duty had swerved;<br>But that if I'd a fancy for any more land<br>For one pound an acre he'd plenty on hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm not very proud! I can dig in a bog,<br>Feed pigs or for firewood can split up a log,<br>Clean shoes, riddle cinders, or help to boil down<br>Or whatever you please, but graze lands of the Crown.</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>
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<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=344062" data-title="Song Of The Squatter de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won;
So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run;
For he said I was making a fortune too fast,
And profit gained slower the longer would last.

He remarked as devouring my mutton he sat,
That I suffered my sheep t..."></div>
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