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A short story by Henry Lawson |
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A Bush Publican's Lament |
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Title: A Bush Publican's Lament Author: Henry Lawson [More Titles by Lawson] . . . For thirst is long and throats is short
An' what's a feller ter do? I bin there meself, an--I put it to you! I've known what it is to have a thirst on me. An' suppose a poor devil comes along in the jim-jams, with every inch on him jumpin' an' a look in his eyes like a man bein' murdered an' sent ter hell, an' a whine in his voice like a whipped cur, an' the snakes a-chasing of him; an' he hooks me with his finger ter the far end o' the bar--as if he was goin' ter tell me that the world was ended--an' he hangs over the bar an' chews me lug, an' tries to speak, an' breaks off inter a sort o' low shriek, like a terrified woman, an' he says, "For Mother o' Christ's sake, giv' me a drink!" An' what am I to do? I bin there meself. I knows what the horrors is. He mighter blued his cheque at the last shanty. But what am I ter do? I put it ter you. If I let him go he might hang hisself ter the nex' leanin' tree. What's a drink? yer might arst--I don't mind a drink or two; but when it comes to half a dozen in a day it mounts up, I can tell yer. Drinks is sixpence here--I have to pay for it, an' pay carriage on it. It's all up ter me in the end. I used sometimes ter think it was lucky I wasn't west o' the sixpenny line, where I'd lose a shillin' on every drink I give away. An' supposen a sundowner comes along smokin' tea-leaves, an' ses ter me, "Look her, boss! me an' my mate ain't had a smoke for three days!" What's a man ter do? I put it ter you! I'm a heavy smoker meself, an' I've known what it is to be without a smoke on the track. But "nail-rod" is ninepence a stick out here, an' I have ter pay carriage. It all mounts up, I can tell yer. An' supposen Ole King Billy an' his ole black gin comes round at holiday time and squats on the verander, an' blarneys an' wheedles and whines and argues like a hundred Jews an' ole Irishwomen put tergether, an' accuses me o' takin' his blarsted country from him, an' makes me an' the missus laugh; an' we gives him a bottl'er rum an' a bag of grub ter get rid of him an' his rotten ole scarecrow tribe--It all tells up. I was allers soft on the blacks, an', beside, a ole gin nursed me an' me mother when I was born, an' saved me blessed life--not that that mounts to much. But it all tells up, an' I got me licence ter pay. An' some bloody skunk goes an' informs on me for supplyin' the haboriginalls with intossicatin' liquor, an' I have ter pay a fine an' risk me licence. But what's a man ter do? An' three or four herrin'-gutted jackaroos comes along about dinner-time, when the table's set and the cookin' smellin' from the kichen, with their belts done up three holes, an' not the price of a feed on 'em. What's a man ter do? I've known what it is ter do a perish on the track meself. It's not the tucker I think on. I don't care a damn for that. When the shearers come every one is free to go inter the kitchin an' forage for hisself when he feels hungry--so long as he pays for his drink. But the jackaroos can't pay for drinks, an' I have ter pay carriage on the flour an' tea an' sugar an' groceries--an' it all tells up by the end o' the year. An' a straight chap that knows me gets a job to take a flock o' sheep or a mob o' cattle ter the bloomin' Gulf, or South Australia, or somewheers--an' loses one of his horses goin' out ter take charge, an' borrers eight quid from me ter buy another. He'll turn up agen in a year or two an' most likely want ter make me take twenty quid for that eight--an' make everybody about the place blind drunk--but I've got ter wait, an' the wine an' sperit merchants an' the brewery won't. They know I can't do without liquor in the place. An' lars' rains Jimmy Nowlett, the bullick-driver, gets bogged over his axle-trees back there on the Blacksoil Plains between two flooded billerbongs, an' prays till the country steams an' his soul's busted, an' his throat like a lime-kiln. He taps a keg o' rum or beer ter keep his throat in workin' order. I don't mind that at all, but him an' his mates git flood-bound for near a week, an' broach more kegs, an' go on a howlin' spree in ther mud, an' spill mor'n they swipe, an' leave a tarpaulin off a load, an' the flour gets wet, an' the sugar runs out of the bags like syrup, an'-- What's a feller ter do? Do yer expect me to set the law onter Jimmy? I've knowed him all my life, an' he knowed my father afore I was born. He's been on the roads this forty year, till he's as thin as a rat, and as poor as a myall black; an' he's got a family ter keep back there in Bourke. No, I have ter pay for it in the end, an' it all mounts up, I can tell yer. An' suppose some poor devil of a new-chum black sheep comes along, staggerin' from one side of the track to the other, and spoutin' poetry; dyin' o' heat or fever, or heartbreak an' home-sickness, or a life o' disserpation he'd led in England, an' without a sprat on him, an' no claim on the bush; an' I ketches: him in me arms as he stumbles inter the bar, an' he wants me ter hold him up while he turns English inter Greek for me. An' I put him ter bed, an' he gits worse, an' I have ter send the buggy twenty mile for a doctor--an' pay him. An' the jackaroo gits worse, an' has ter be watched an' nursed an' held down sometimes; an' he raves about his home an' mother in England, an' the blarsted University that he was eddicated at--an' a woman--an' somethin' that sounds like poetry in French; an' he upsets my missus a lot, an' makes her blubber. An' he dies, an' I have ter pay a man ter bury him (an' knock up a sort o' fence round the grave arterwards ter keep the stock out), an' send the buggy agen for a parson, an'--Well, what's a man ter do? I couldn't let him wander away an' die like a dog in the scrub, an' be shoved underground like a dog, too, if his body was ever found. The Government might pay ter bury him, but there ain't never been a pauper funeral from my house yet, an' there won't be one if I can help it--except it be meself. An' then there's the bother goin' through his papers to try an' find out who he was an' where his friends is. An' I have ter get the missus to write a letter to his people, an' we have ter make up lies about how he died ter make it easier for 'em. An' goin' through his letters, the missus comes across a portrait an' a locket of hair, an' letters from his mother an' sisters an' girl; an' they upset her, an' she blubbers agin, an' gits sentimental--like she useter long ago when we was first married. There was one bit of poetry--I forgit it now--that that there jackaroo kep' sayin' over an' over agen till it buzzed in me head; an', weeks after, I'd ketch the missus mutterin' it to herself in the kitchen till I thought she was goin' ratty. An' we gets a letter from the jackaroo's friends that puts us to a lot more bother. I hate havin' anythin' to do with letters. An' someone's sure to say he was lambed down an' cleaned out an' poisoned with bad bush liquor at my place. It's almost enough ter make a man wish there _was_ a recorin' angel. An' what's the end of it? I got the blazin' bailiff in the place now! I can't shot him out because he's a decent, hard-up, poor devil from Bourke, with consumption or somethin', an' he's been talkin' to the missus about his missus an' kids; an' I see no chance of gittin' rid of him, unless the shearers come along with their cheques from West-o'-Sunday nex' week and act straight by me. Like as not I'll have ter roll up me swag an' take the track meself in the end. They say publicans are damned, an' I think so, too; an' I wish I'd bin operated on before ever I seen a pub.
[The end]
-------------------------------------- Some definitions and Australian slangs: anabranch: A bend in a river that has been cut through by the stream. The main current now runs straight, the anabranch diverges and then rejoins. See billabong. Barcoo-rot. "Persistent ulceration of the skin, chiefly on the hands, and often originating in abrasions". (Morris, Australian English). Barcoo is a river in Queensland. billabong. Based on an aboriginal word. Sometimes used for an anabranch, but more often used for one that, in dry season or droughts especially, is cut off at either or both ends from the main stream. It is often just a muddy pool, and may indeed dry up completely. blackfellow: condescending for Australian Aboriginal blackleg: someone who is employed to cross a union picket line to break a workers' strike. As Molly Ivins said, she was brought up on the three great commandments: do not lie; do not steal; never cross a picket line. Also scab. blanky or --- : Fill in your own favourite word. Usually however used for "bloody"--see crimson/gory. blooming: actually used in speech instead of "bloody" (see crimson). bluey: swag. Explanation in Lawson's "The romance of the Swag" here. bob: one shilling bullocky: Bullock driver. A man who drove teams of bullocks yoked to wagons carrying e.g. wool bales or provisions. Proverbially rough and foul mouthed. bummer: A cadger or bludger. Someone who begs for food. Interesting Americanism already. Also, tramp. (Different meaning today) bush: originally referred to the low tangled scrubs of the semi-desert regions (cf. `mulga' and `mallee'), and hence equivalent to "outback". Now used generally for remote rural areas ("the bush") and scrubby forest. bushfire: wild fires: whether forest fires or grass fires. bushman/bushwoman: someone who lives an isolated existence, far from cities, "in the bush". (today: a "bushy") bushranger: an Australian "highwayman", who lived in the `bush'-- scrub--and attacked especially gold carrying coaches and banks. Romanticised as anti-authoritarian Robin Hood figures--cf. Ned Kelly--but usually very violent. bunyip: Aboriginal monster, inhabiting waterholes, billabongs particularly. Adopted into European legends. caser: Five shillings (12 pence to the shilling, 20 shillings to the pound ("quid")). As a coin, a crown piece. chaffing: teasing, mocking good-humouredly churchyarder: Sounding as if dying--ready for the churchyard = cemetery crimson = gory: literary substitutes for "bloody"--the "colonial oath", unacceptable in polite company. Why, is a complete mystery. Popularly explained as contraction of "by Our Lady". Unproved. In reproducing (badly) a German's pronunciation of Australian, Lawson retains the word, but spells it "pluddy". dood: Dude. A classy/cool dresser. drover: one who "droves" droving: driving on horseback cattle or sheep from where they were fattened to a a city, or later, a rail-head. fiver: a five pound note gory: see crimson Homebush: Saleyard, market area in Sydney humpy: rough shack half-caser: Two shillings and sixpence. As a coin, a half-crown. jackaroo: (Jack + kangaroo; sometimes jackeroo)--someone, in early days a new immigrant from England, learning to work on a sheep/cattle station (U.S. "ranch".) jim-jams: the horrors, d.t.'s jumbuck: a sheep (best known from Waltzing Matilda: "where's that jolly jumbuck, you've got in your tucker bag".) larrikin: anything from a disrespectful young man to a violent member of a gang ("push"). Was considered a major social problem in Sydney of the 1880's to 1900. The _Bulletin_, a magazine in which much of Lawson was published, spoke of the "aggressive, soft-hatted stoush brigade". Anyone today who is disrespectful of authority or convention is said to show the larrikin element in the Australian character. lucerne: Alfalfa in US mallee: dwarfed eucalyptus trees growing in very poor soil and under harsh rainfall conditions. Usually many stems emerging from the ground, creating a low thicket. mateship: See Lawson story, "Mateship". A heavily romanticised, but nevertheless very practical form of (male) loyalty to a (male) companion who travels with/works with him. A "mate" provides not only companionship, but help in emergencies. Typical of an Australian in the "outback"--or "Never-Never", or under war conditions. A man without a mate was a "hatter"--"his hat covers his family". Such a person might go "ratty" (see further in The romance of the Swag). Equivalent to the "buddy system" in SCUBA diving. metalled: of a road, covered in crushed rock (e.g. "blue metal") mulga: Acacia sp. ("wattle" in Australian) especially Acacia aneura; growing in semi-desert conditions. Used as a description of such a harsh region. mullock: the tailings left after gold has been removed. In Lawson generally mud (alluvial) rather than rock myall: aboriginal living in a traditional--pre-conquest--manner nobbler: a drink nuggety: compact but strong physique; small but well-muscled pastoralist: OED sees it a equivalent to "squatter", but in Lawson someone often someone managing a large cattle/sheep "station" for a "pastoral company" rather than an individual. Seen as ultimate capitalist oppression. pluddy: see crimson quid: monetary unit; one pound ratty: insane--or, very eccentric, "cranky". ringer: the champion sheep shearer in a shed that season rouseabout: Labourer in a (sheep) shearing shed. Considered to be, as far as any work is, unskilled labour. sawney: silly, gormless scab: see blackleg shout: In a group; to stand (pay for) a round of drinks. Bad form to leave before your turn comes around. Much peer pressure to drink more than one wished. One can also "shout" for everyone in the pub. skillion(-room): A "lean-to", a room built up against the back of some other building, with separate roof. spifflicated: punished, thrashed without mercy. spree: prolonged drinking bout--days, weeks. squatter: Someone who took up large areas of land, originally without official permission ("squatted"), for sheep especially. Became the "landed aristocracy" of Australia. ("Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred") steever: Originally a Dutch coin. Used here like "penny"--or brass razoo. sundowner: a swagman (see) who is NOT looking for work, but a "handout". Lawson explains the term as referring to someone who turns up at a station at sundown, just in time for "tea" i.e. the evening meal. Line (2494) of actual text (not counting P.G. matter). swagman (swaggy): Generally, anyone who is walking in the "outback" with a swag. (See "The Romance of the Swag".) Lawson also restricts it at times to those whom he considers to be tramps, not looking for work but for "handouts". In view of the Great Depression (1890->. In 1892 it was reckoned 1/3 men were out of work) perhaps unfairly. Perhaps because he _was_ there. See `travellers'. Tattersalls: The earliest public lottery in Australia. (1881) tenner: a ten pound note. tin-kettling: making noise by striking metal pots/pans. May be celebratory (weddings--in this collection, New Year's Eve), or may indicate extreme social disapproval of someone. travellers: "shearers and rouseabouts travelling for work" (Lawson). [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |