Day: July 24, 2025

“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  In accents most forlorn,

Outside the church, ere Mass began,

  One frosty Sunday morn.

The congregation stood about,

  Coat-collars to the ears,

And talked of stock, and crops, and drought,

  As it had done for years.

“It’s looking crook,” said Daniel Croke;

  “Bedad, it’s cruke, me lad,

For never since the banks went broke

  Has seasons been so bad.”

“It’s dry, all right,” said young O’Neil,

  With which astute remark

He squatted down upon his heel

  And chewed a piece of bark.

And so around the chorus ran

  “It’s keepin’ dry, no doubt.”

“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  “Before the year is out.”

“The crops are done; ye’ll have your work

  To save one bag of grain;

From here way out to Back-o’-Bourke

  They’re singin’ out for rain.

“They’re singin’ out for rain,” he said,

  “And all the tanks are dry.”

The congregation scratched its head,

  And gazed around the sky.

“There won’t be grass, in any case,

  Enough to feed an ass;

There’s not a blade on Casey’s place

  As I came down to Mass.”

“If rain don’t come this month,” said Dan,

  And cleared his throat to speak –

“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  “If rain don’t come this week.”

A heavy silence seemed to steal

  On all at this remark;

And each man squatted on his heel,

  And chewed a piece of bark.

“We want an inch of rain, we do,”

  O’Neil observed at last;

But Croke “maintained” we wanted two

  To put the danger past.

“If we don’t get three inches, man,

  Or four to break this drought,

We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  “Before the year is out.”

In God’s good time down came the rain;

  And all the afternoon

On iron roof and window-pane

  It drummed a homely tune.

And through the night it pattered still,

  And lightsome, gladsome elves

On dripping spout and window-sill

  Kept talking to themselves.

It pelted, pelted all day long,

  A-singing at its work,

Till every heart took up the song

  Way out to Back-o’-Bourke.

And every creek a banker ran,

  And dams filled overtop;

“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  “If this rain doesn’t stop.”

And stop it did, in God’s good time;

  And spring came in to fold

A mantle o’er the hills sublime

  Of green and pink and gold.

And days went by on dancing feet,

  With harvest-hopes immense,

And laughing eyes beheld the wheat

  Nid-nodding o’er the fence.

And, oh, the smiles on every face,

  As happy lad and lass

Through grass knee-deep on Casey’s place

  Went riding down to Mass.

While round the church in clothes genteel

  Discoursed the men of mark,

And each man squatted on his heel,

  And chewed his piece of bark.

“There’ll be bush-fires for sure, me man,

  There will, without a doubt;

We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,

  “Before the year is out.”

🧠 1. How does “Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien use repetition to shape our understanding of pessimism?

“Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien uses repetition—especially the recurring line “We’ll all be rooned”—to emphasize how deeply pessimism can root itself in a community. This phrase is not only Hanrahan’s personal mantra but becomes a collective refrain that reflects and reinforces fear. It appears in times of drought, flood, and even during spring abundance. For example, after joyful rains arrive and “every heart took up the song,” Hanrahan still declares, “We’ll all be rooned…if this rain doesn’t stop.” This repetition serves to satirize the human tendency to anticipate disaster regardless of circumstances, turning pessimism into a ritual that is almost religious in its frequency and inevitability.

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🌍 2. What does “Said Hanrahan“ by John O’Brien reveal about rural Australian life and environmental dependence?

“Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien vividly portrays how rural Australian communities are at the mercy of environmental conditions. Through lines like “The crops are done; ye’ll have your work / To save one bag of grain” and “All the tanks are dry,” O’Brien shows how livelihoods depend entirely on the land and weather. The references to “Back-o’-Bourke” and “Casey’s place” ground the poem in specific rural locations, suggesting isolation and fragility. Even the moments of joy—when “spring came in to fold / A mantle o’er the hills sublime”—are temporary and uncertain. This theme underscores how environmental unpredictability defines both the economic and emotional rhythms of bush life.

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😂 3. In what ways does “Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien function as satire?

“Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien is a rich example of rural satire, using humor and exaggeration to critique human nature. Hanrahan’s constant predictions of ruin—even when things are going well—highlight the absurdity of always expecting the worst. His shift from fearing drought to fearing too much rain (“We’ll all be rooned…if this rain doesn’t stop”) mocks how some people can never be satisfied. The community’s habit of chewing bark and squatting, no matter the conditions, adds to the comic portrayal of stagnation and unchanging mindsets. O’Brien’s light rhyme and conversational tone enhance this effect, making the poem entertaining while subtly calling attention to how fear and negativity can dominate thinking.

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🙏 4. How does “Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien explore the relationship between faith and survival?

“Said Hanrahan” by John O’Brien subtly weaves religious imagery and the idea of faith into its portrayal of hardship and survival. The poem begins and ends “outside the church, ere Mass began,” positioning faith as the backdrop of rural life. But it’s not just organized religion—there’s also a deeper trust in divine timing. When rain finally arrives, it’s “In God’s good time,” suggesting that ultimate control lies beyond human hands. Despite constant worry, the community continues on, riding through knee-deep grass, going to Mass, and enduring the cycles. This blend of religious setting and natural resilience reflects how faith—both spiritual and emotional—helps people survive the unpredictability of the bush.

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;

He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;

He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;

He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;

And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,

The grinning shop assistant said, “Excuse me, can you ride?”

“See here, young man,” said Mulga Bill, “from Walgett to the sea,

From Conroy’s Gap to Castlereagh, there’s none can ride like me.

I’m good all round at everything as everybody knows,

Although I’m not the one to talk – I hate a man that blows.

But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;

Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.

There’s nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,

There’s nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,

But what I’ll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight:

I’ll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.”

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,

That perched above Dead Man’s Creek, beside the mountain road.

He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,

But ‘ere he’d gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.

It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,

It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man’s Creek.

It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:

The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,

The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,

As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.

It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,

It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;

And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek

It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dean Man’s Creek.

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:

He said, “I’ve had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;

I’ve rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,

But this was the most awful ride that I’ve encountered yet.

I’ll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it’s shaken all my nerve

To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.

It’s safe at rest in Dead Man’s Creek, we’ll leave it lying still;

A horse’s back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.”

❓ 1. How does the poem explore the dangers of overconfidence and pride?

In “Mulga Bill’s Bicycle” by Banjo Paterson, overconfidence is portrayed as a comical yet dangerous flaw. Mulga Bill brags extensively about his riding skills: “There’s nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel, / But what I’ll sit…” This self-glorification sets him up for failure. His lack of humility blinds him to the reality that bicycles require different skills than horses. Paterson uses this flaw to teach a lesson—the wild ride down the hill becomes a physical metaphor for the crash of inflated ego. Bill’s “last despairing shriek” as he flies into Dead Man’s Creek serves as a humorous but harsh wake-up call. The poet makes it clear that pride can lead to real danger when not grounded in actual ability.

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🧭 2. In what ways does the poem critique blind faith in modern technology?

In “Mulga Bill’s Bicycle” by Banjo Paterson, the bicycle symbolizes modern technology, while the horse represents traditional wisdom. Bill abandons his loyal horse for the allure of the “shining new machine,” excited more by its appearance than practicality. His disastrous ride highlights the poet’s skepticism toward blindly embracing modern inventions without understanding them. Paterson does not condemn progress outright but uses satire to show that novelty without experience is risky. The phrase “two-wheeled outlaw” suggests the bicycle is almost criminal in its rebellion against the bushman’s control, emphasizing its incompatibility with his skills. Ultimately, the return to “a horse’s back” shows that sometimes older ways are not only safer but better suited to a person’s character and environment.

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😂 3. How does humor function in the poem’s overall message?

In “Mulga Bill’s Bicycle” by Banjo Paterson, humor is central to both its tone and message. The poem mocks Mulga Bill’s exaggerated confidence and the absurdity of his situation. The shift from his bravado to his panicked “despairing shriek” is comedic because the audience anticipates his failure while he remains blissfully unaware. Paterson uses rhyming couplets, rhythmic pacing, and dramatic exaggeration to create a light, entertaining mood, even as he critiques human folly. Even the setting—“Dead Man’s Creek”—adds dark irony to the humor. The laughter evoked by Bill’s misadventure reinforces the lesson that arrogance often ends in embarrassment, making the poem’s message more memorable and enjoyable.

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🐎 4. What does the poem suggest about the connection between people and their environment?

In “Mulga Bill’s Bicycle” by Banjo Paterson, there is a clear connection between people and the environment they live in, especially within the Australian bush context. Mulga Bill, a bushman, is naturally attuned to horses, the rugged landscape, and the rhythms of rural life. However, his attempt to ride a bicycle—a foreign, urban invention—goes against the grain of his environment. The natural world reacts violently: wallaroos scatter, wombats dig deeper, and Bill is thrown around like a rag doll. The terrain itself, with its steep slopes and trees, rejects the bicycle’s presence. The line “It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;” shows how ill-suited the machine is to the natural landscape. Paterson implies that harmony with one’s environment is essential, and that forced changes often end in disaster.