The Pannikin Poet

Read 'The Pannikin Poet' by 'Andrew Barton Paterson' and provide your summary and literary analysis in the comments section below.

The Pannikin Poet by Andrew Barton Paterson

 There's nothing here sublime, 
But just a roving rhyme, 
Run off to pass the time, 
With nought titanic in. 
The theme that it supports, 
And, though it treats of quarts, 
It's bare of golden thoughts -- 
It's just a pannikin. 

I think it's rather hard 
That each Australian bard -- 
Each wan, poetic card -- 
With thoughts galvanic in 
His fiery thought alight, 
In wild aerial flight, 
Will sit him down and write 
About a pannikin. 

He makes some new-chum fare 
From out his English lair 
To hunt the native bear, 
That curious mannikin; 
And then the times get bad 
That wandering English lad 
Writes out a message sad 
Upon his pannikin: 

"O mother, think of me 
Beneath the wattle tree" 
(For you may bet that he 
Will drag the wattle in) 
"O mother, here I think 
That I shall have to sink, 
There ain't a single drink 
The water-bottle in." 

The dingo homeward hies, 
The sooty crows uprise 
And caw their fierce surprise 
A tone Satanic in; 
And bearded bushmen tread 
Around the sleeper's head -- 
"See here -- the bloke is dead! 
Now where's his pannikin?" 

They read his words and weep, 
And lay him down to sleep 
Where wattle branches sweep, 
A style mechanic in; 
And, reader, that's the way 
The poets of today 
Spin out their little lay 
About a pannikin.

Form: Ballad

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