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Poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
The Rhyme of the O’Sullivan
Pro Bono Publico Went out the streets to scan, And marching to and fro He met a seedy man, Who did a tale unfold In solemn tones and slow And this is what he told Pro Bono Publico. ”For many years I led The people’s onward march; I was the ’Fountain Head’, The ’Democratic Arch’. ”In more than regal state I used to sit and smile, And bridges I’d donate, And railways by the mile. ”I pawned the country off For many million quid, And spent it like a toff -- So hel me, Bob, I did. ”But now those times are gone, The wind blows cold and keen; I sit and think upon The thing that I have been. ”And if a country town Its obligation shirks, I press for money down To pay for water works. ”A million pounds or two Was naught at all to me -- And now I have to sue For paltry £ s d! ”Alas, that such a fate Should come to such a man, Who once was called the Great -- The great O’Sullivan!” With weary steps and slow, With tears of sympathy Pro Bono Publico Went sadly home to tea. Remarking, as he went, With sad and mournful brow, ”The cash that party spent -- I wish I had it now!”
Andrew Barton Paterson
Andrew Barton Paterson's other poems:
- There’s Another Blessed Horse Fell Down
- The Wargeilah Handicap
- The Maori’s Wool
- “Shouting” for a Camel
- The Man Who Was Away
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