Poem by Andrew Barton Paterson

A Triolet

Of all the sickly forms of verse, 
Commend me to the triolet. 
It makes bad writers somewhat worse: 
Of all the sickly forms of verse, 
That fall beneath a reader’s curse, 
It is the feeblest jingle yet. 
Of all the sickly forms of verse, 
Commend me to the triolet.

1. There’s Another Blessed Horse Fell Down
2. The Wargeilah Handicap
3. The Maori’s Wool
4. “Shouting” for a Camel
5. The Man Who Was Away

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