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Famous Blokes Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Blokes poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous blokes poems. These examples illustrate what a famous blokes poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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by Service, Robert William
...bloody war is made,
 Then wot I say is: Empire and 'igh destiny be damned!
There's only one good cause, Bill, for poor blokes like us to fight:
 That's self-defence, for 'earth and 'ome, and them that bears our name;
And that's wot I'm a-doin' by the sandbags 'ere to-night. . . .
 But Fritz out there will tell you 'e's a-doin' of the same.

Starin' over the sandbags,
 Sick of the 'ole damn thing;
Firin' to keep meself awake,
 'Earin' the bullets sing....Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...ay in townships till the bush is civilized. 
Would you make it a tea-garden, and on Sundays have a band 
Where the "blokes" might take their "donahs", with a "public" close at hand? 
You had better stick to Sydney and make merry with the "push", 
For the bush will never suit you, and you'll never suit the bush....Read More

by Service, Robert William,
Yet haunted ever by the sense
Of tragical dynastic doom.
The walls were wailing: Kings must die,
Being plain blokes like you and I.

Well, here's the moral to my rhyme:
When memories more worthy fade
We find that whimsically Time
Conserves some crazy escapade.
So as I left I stood to stare
With humorous enjoyment where
Alphonso crashed the Palace stair....Read More

by Lawson, Henry
...bad, the flies a crimson curse, 
The grub is bad, mosquitoes damned -- but rheumatism's worse. 

I wonder why poor blokes like me will stick so fast ter breath, 
Though Shakespeare says it is the fear of somethin' after death; 
But though Eternity be cursed with God's almighty curse -- 
What ever that same somethin' is I swear it can't be worse. 

For it's trampin', trampin', tra-a-mpin' thro' hell across the plain, 
And it's trampin' trampin' tra-a-mpin' thro' slush...Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...mina with it, of course. 
The price ain't a thing that'll grieve us, 
It's getting a bad un annoys 
The undersigned blokes, and believe us, 
We're yours to a cinder, 'the boys'." 

He answered: "I've bought you a hummer, 
A horse that has never been raced; 
I saw him run over the Drummer, 
He held him outclassed and outpaced. 
His breeding's not known, but they state he 
Is born of a thoroughbred strain. 
I've paid them a hundred and eighty, 
And started the h...Read More

by Service, Robert William me his death
Seems more like martyrdom.

For most o' us have held betime
Foul murder in the heart;
And them sad blokes I swung for crime
Were doomed right from the start.
Of wilful choosing they had none,
For freedom's most a fraud,
And maybe in the end the one
Responsible is - God....Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...get up on my shoulders, mate, 
And, if we live beyond the firing, 
I'll get the V.C. sure as fate, 
Because our blokes is all retiring. 

"It's fifty pound a year," says he, 
"I'll stand you lots of beer and whisky." 
"No," says the wounded man, "not me, 
I'll not be saved -- it's far too risky. 

"I'm fairly safe behind this mound, 
I've worn a hole that seems to fit me; 
But if you lift me off the ground 
It's fifty pounds to one they'll hit me." 

S...Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton's game is a showman's game, for we all of us watch him go 
With his roaring soaring aeroplane and his bombs for the blokes below, 
Over the railways and over the dumps, over the Hun and the Turk, 
You'll hear him mutter, "What ho, she bumps," when the Archies get to work. 
But not of him is the song I sing, though he follow the eagle's flight, 
And with shrapnel holes in his splintered wing comes home to his roost at night. 
He may silver his wings on the shining ...Read More

by Masefield, John
I'll bloody burn his bloody ricks." 

From three long hours of gin and smokes, 
And two girls' breath and fifteen blokes, 
A warmish night, and windows shut, 
The room stank like a fox's gut. 
The heat and smell and drinking deep 
Began to stun the gang to sleep. 
Some fell downstairs to sleep on mat, 
Some snored it sodden where they sat. 
Dick Twot had lost a tooth and wept; 
But all the drunken others slept. 
Jane slept beside me in the chair, 
And I ...Read More

by Service, Robert William
The rain goes in and out the holeing.
They're squelchin' as ye walk yer beat. . . ."
Says I: "blokes don't look at me feet."

Says Polly Crump: "You cough all day;
It just don't do in our profession;
A girl's got to be pert and gay
To give a guy a good impression;
For if ye cough he's shy of you. . . ."
Says I: "An' wots a gel to do?"

Says Polly Crump: "I'm pink an' fat,
But you are bones an' pale as plaster;
At this dam' rate yo...Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...on jackaroo. 
The boundary rider said, said he, 
"You fish dry fly? Well, so do we. 

"These barramundi are the blokes 
To give you all the sport you need: 
For when the big lagoons and soaks 
Are dried right down to mud and weed 
They don't sit there and raise a roar, 
They pack their traps and come ashore. 

"And all these rods and reels you lump 
Along the creek from day to day 
Would only give a man the hump 
Who does his fishing Queensland way. 
For when ...Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...les his man like a bull-dog ant -- 
Fetches hom over too! 
Didn't the public cheer and shout 
Watchin' him chuckin' big blokes about, 
Reverend Mullineux! 

Scrimmage was packed on his prostrate form, 
Somehow the ball got through -- 
Who was it tackled our big half-back, 
Flinging him down like an empty sack, 
Right on our goal-line too? 
Who but the man that we thought was dead, 
Down with a score of 'em on his head, 
Reverend Mullineux....Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...ll, run that right-hand ridge along— 
It ain’t, to say, too steep— 
There’s two fresh tracks might put you wrong 
Where blokes went out with sheep. 

But keep the crick upon your right, 
And follow pretty straight 
Along the spur, until you sight 
A wire and sapling gate. 

Well, that’s where Hogan’s old grey mare 
Fell off and broke her back; 
You’ll see her carcase layin’ there, 
Jist down below the track. 

And then you drop two mile, or three, 
It’s pretty ste...Read More

by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...ent of devastation; 
And the number of men he had killed in fights 
Was his principal conversation. 

"I have known blokes go to their doom," said he, 
"Through actin' with haste and rashness: 
But the style that this Noisy Ned assumes, 
It's nothing but silent flashness. 

"We may just be dirt, from his point of view, 
Unworthy a word in season; 
But I'll make him talk like a cockatoo 
Or I'll get him to show the reason." 

Was it chance or fate, that King Condam...Read More

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