Chris Long’s Bush Poetry has found its way into the hearts of Aussie’s in many different ways.  The following are extracts from award winning and popular verses.

“Well, Gidday there boss, I’m Iron Bark Jim, I can ride I can fence I can shear,

I can buck a horse out and I’ll stick through a drought n’ you might need a good man this year.”

But the boss was no fool, from his big lofty stool, he looked down his noise at poor Jim,

“Arhhh….Iron Bark Jim, I’ve been waiting for you”, and the prospect of work seemed quiet slim.

Extract from  ‘THE IRONWOOD GATES’, winner of Charters Towers Country Music Festival, Bush Poetry Contest  1999.  (Recited by Tom Mauloni).



So hear me now I tell you this for when God shows his hand,

Greater love hath none than he who died for fellow man.

For I am just a messenger through visions that I see, 

Of bugles calling Anzac sons, for one last reveille.

Extract from ‘THE LAST REVEILLE’.  Recited at official function of Australian and Turkish dignitaries, Anzac Day, Gallipoli Peninsula 2002.  (Recited by former Innisfail Mayor My Barry Moyle).



Now they’ve tried with mighty armies, ten thousand men or more,

But Beersheba was untouchable, such was the bible lore.

Eight hundred Anzacs stormed the flat, a reckless outback breed,

Few of them had read the bible, some couldn’t even read.

Extract from ‘THE BOLD BEERSHEBA RIDE’, winner North Queensland Bush Poetry Championship 2002.  (Recited by the author).



The outlaw bucked off down the flat, through a fence and trees,

But Bluey’s mate spurred high and low and rode him with his knees.

Squealing, twisting kicking in a frenzied half mad state,

The stallion couldn’t shift the boy they knew as Bluey’s mate.


A bugle plays on the Anzac dawn ,

Old diggers are silent and sad.

An ancient old man wears his medals with pride,

The medals he wore as a lad.


He thinks of a war now buried in time,

He remembers the grave on a hill.

The grave of a brother who never came home,

And the bugle is echoing still.


Extracts from ‘BLUEY’s MATE’ and ‘THE BUGLE IS ECHOING STILL’.  Finalists at the Gympie Muster, Bush Poetry contest.  (Recited by the author).



There’s sunsets on the Nullarbor  and visions quiet serene,

Miles of desert sand dunes and shades of tropic green.

The heavens in their splendor on a Snowy River night,

Or wild ducks on the wing with a hint of first daylight.


So cut the bonds of modern life that bind you to your toil,

Let’s hear the stock whips cracking now, let’s watch the billy boil.

Spare yourself a moment to hump your sag with me,

Come drifting with a poet and set your spirits free.

Extract from ‘COME DRIFTING’.  Winner Queensland Championships   (Recited by Tom Mauloni).