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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tambaroora Jim</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He never drew a sword to fight a dozen foes alone,<br>Nor gave a life to save a life no better than his own.<br>He lived because he had been born—the hero of my song—<br>And fought the battle with his fist whene’er he fought a wrong.<br>Yet there are many men who would do anything for him—<br>A simple chap as went by name of ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ <br>He used to keep a shanty in the ‘Come-and-find-it Scrub,’<br>And there were few but knew the name of Tambaroora’s pub.<br>He wasn’t great in lambing down, as many landlords are,<br>And never was a man less fit to stand behind a bar—<br>Off-hand, as most bush natives are, and freckled, tall, and slim,<br>A careless native of the land was ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When people said that loafers took the profit from his pub,<br>He’d ask them how they thought a chap could do without his grub;<br>He’d say, ‘I’ve gone for days myself without a bite or sup—<br>‘Oh! I’ve been through the mill and know what ’tis to be hard-up.’<br>He might have made his fortune, but he wasn’t in the swim,<br>For no one had a softer heart than ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One dismal day I tramped across the Come-and-find-it Flats,<br>With ‘Ballarat Adolphus’ and a mate of ‘Ballarat’s’;<br>’Twas nearly night and raining fast, and all our things were damp,<br>We’d no tobacco, and our legs were aching with the cramp;<br>We couldn’t raise a cent, and so our lamp of hope was dim;<br>And thus we struck the shanty kept by ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We dropped our swags beneath a tree, and squatted in despair,<br>But Jim came out to watch the rain, and saw us sitting there;<br>He came and muttered, ‘I suppose you haven’t half -a-crown,<br>‘But come and get some tucker, and a drink to wash it down.’<br>And so we took our blueys up and went along with him,<br>And then we knew why bushmen swore by ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We sat beside his kitchen fire and nursed our tired knees,<br>And blessed him when we heard the rain go rushing through the trees.<br>He made us stay, although he knew we couldn’t raise a bob,<br>And tuckered us until we made some money on a job.<br>And many times since then we’ve filled our glasses to the brim,<br>And drunk in many pubs the health of ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A man need never want a meal while Jim had ‘junk’ to carve,<br>For ‘Tambaroora’ always said a fellow couldn’t starve.<br>And this went on until he got a bailiff in his pub,<br>Through helping chaps as couldn’t raise the money for their grub.<br>And so, one rainy evening, as the distant range grew dim,<br>He humped his bluey from the Flats—did ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I miss the fun in Jim’s old bar—the laughter and the noise,<br>The jolly hours I used to spend on pay-nights with the boys.<br>But that’s all past, and vain regrets are useless, I’ll allow;<br>They say the Come-and-find-it Flats are all deserted now.<br>Poor ‘Tambaroora’s’ dead, perhaps, but that’s all right with him,<br>Saint Peter cottons on to chaps like ‘Tambaroora Jim.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I trust that he and I may meet where starry fields are grand,<br>And liquor up together in the pubs in spirit-land.<br>But if you chance to drop on Jim while in the West, my lad,<br>You won’t forget to tell him that I want to see him bad.<br>I want to shake his hand again—I want to shout for him—<br>I want to have a glass or two with ‘Tambaroora Jim.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</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=408758" data-title="Tambaroora Jim de Henry Lawson" data-description="He never drew a sword to fight a dozen foes alone,
Nor gave a life to save a life no better than his own.
He lived because he had been born—the hero of my song—
And fought the battle with his fist whene’er he fought a wrong.
Yet there are ma..."></div>
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