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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344181" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Those Names</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shearers sat in the firelight, hearty and hale and strong, <br>After the hard day's shearing, passing the joke along: <br>The 'ringer' that shore a hundred, as they never were shorn before, <br>And the novice who, toiling bravely, had tommy-hawked half a score, <br>The tarboy, the cook and the slushy, the sweeper that swept the board, <br>The picker-up, and the penner, with the rest of the shearing horde. <br>There were men from the inland stations where the skies like a furnace glow, <br>And men from Snowy River, the land of frozen snow; <br>There were swarthy Queensland drovers who reckoned all land by miles, <br>And farmers' sons from the Murray, where many a vineyard smiles. <br>They started at telling stories when they wearied of cards and games, <br>And to give these stories flavour they threw in some local names, <br>Then a man from the bleak Monaro, away on the tableland, <br>He fixed his eyes on the ceiling, and he started to play his hand. <br>He told them of Adjintoothbong, where the pine-clad mountains freeze, <br>And the weight of the snow in summer breaks branches off the trees, <br>And, as he warmed to the business, he let them have it strong -- <br>Nimitybelle, Conargo, Wheeo, Bongongolong; <br>He lingered over them fondly, because they recalled to mind <br>A thought of the bush homestead, and the girl that he left behind. <br>Then the shearers all sat silent till a man in the corner rose; <br>Said he, 'I've travelled a-plenty but never heard names like those. <br>Out in the western districts, out in the Castlereigh <br>Most of the names are easy -- short for a man to say. <br>You've heard of Mungrybambone and the Gundabluey Pine, <br>Quobbotha, Girilambone, and Terramungamine, <br>Quambone, Eunonyhareenyha, Wee Waa, and Buntijo --' <br>But the rest of the shearers stopped him: 'For the sake of your jaw, go slow, <br>If you reckon thase names are short ones out where such names prevail, <br>Just try and remember some long ones before you begin the tale.' <br>And the man from the western district, though never a word he siad, <br>Just winked with his dexter eyelid, and then he retired to bed.</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=344181" data-title="Those Names de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="The shearers sat in the firelight, hearty and hale and strong, 
After the hard day's shearing, passing the joke along: 
The 'ringer' that shore a hundred, as they never were shorn before, 
And the novice who, toiling bravely, had tommy-hawked half..."></div>
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