Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant

(9 December 1864 – 27 February 1902 / Somerset, England)

Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant Poems

1. Who's Riding Old Harlequin Now? 1/1/2004
2. Night Thought 1/1/2004
3. Summer Midnight 1/1/2004
4. Westward Ho! 1/1/2004
5. A Song 1/1/2004
6. His Masterpiece 1/1/2004
7. West By North Again 1/1/2004
8. Two Gossips 1/1/2004
9. A-Shelling Peas 1/1/2004
10. To A Silent Girl 1/1/2004
11. Love Outlasteth All 1/1/2004
12. Butchered To Make A Dutchman's Holiday 4/24/2012
13. The Reprobate's Reply 4/24/2012
14. Much A Little While 4/24/2012
15. A Departing Dirge 4/24/2012
16. At The River-Crossing 4/24/2012
17. To The Rev. Canon Fisher 4/24/2012
18. The Nights At Rocky Bar 4/24/2012
19. Paddy Magee 4/24/2012
20. When The Light Is As Darkness 4/24/2012
21. At Last 4/24/2012
22. Behind The Bar - A Desecration Of Tennyson 4/24/2012
23. While Yet We May 4/24/2012
24. The Devoutly Thankful Lover 4/24/2012
25. Corn Medicine 4/24/2012
26. An Enthusiastic Sportsman Enthuses 4/24/2012
27. Too Much Light 4/24/2012
28. Some Other Somebody 4/24/2012
29. Short Shrift 4/24/2012
30. Envoi 4/24/2012
31. Sir Walter (Revised) 4/24/2012
32. The Wooing O' T 4/24/2012
33. Since The Country Carried Sheep 4/24/2012
34. The Day That Is Dead 4/24/2012
35. Brigalow Mick 4/24/2012
Best Poem of Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant

Who's Riding Old Harlequin Now?

They are mustering cattle on Brigalow Vale
Where the stock-horses whinny and stamp,
And where long Andy Ferguson, you may go bail,
Is yet boss on a cutting-out camp.
Half the duffers I met would not know a fat steer
From a blessed old Alderney cow.
Whilst they're mustering there I am wondering here -
Who is riding brown Harlequin now?

Are the pikers as wild and the scrubs just as dense
In the brigalow country as when
There was never a homestead and never a fence
Between Brigalow Vale and The Glen?
Do they yard the big micks 'neath the light ...

Read the full of Who's Riding Old Harlequin Now?

Two Gossips

One fox-faced virgin, word for word,
Repeats each sland'rous thing she's heard,
And sourly smiles as scandal slips
With gusto from her thin white lips.

She's bad enough! but list a minute.
Beside her mate she isn't in it.
This latter lady, 'pon my word,
Repeats things . . . . she has never heard.

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