Betrayal and Sacrifice – Analyzing ‘How Gilbert Died’ by Banjo Paterson

Banjo Paterson’s dramatic narrative poem ‘How Gilbert Died’ recounts the tragic demise of bushranger Gilbert at the hands of the colonial police. Through vivid imagery and skilful storytelling, Paterson explores themes of mateship, betrayal and defiant courage.

The poem pulls us directly into the action as Gilbert and his partner Dunn ride urgently to a hut, with police in hot pursuit. Gilbert’s reputation as an elusive outlaw is quickly established, setting up the significance of his impending capture.

The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses

by Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson

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Seeking refuge with a treacherous grandfather who has secretly betrayed them, the bushrangers walk blindly into their doom. Paterson masterfully builds the tension as men stealthily surround the hut at night to ambush the pair.

Gilbert senses a trap and attempts to escape, but is foiled by his wet rifle. Paterson conjures the confusion and desperation of the ambush through quick, dramatic action.

Knowing they will both die, Gilbert makes the gallant decision to sacrifice himself so his mate can get away. This loyalty contrasts sharply with the grandfather’s violation of kinship bonds for greed.

Paterson movingly depicts Gilbert’s last stand, defiantly fighting against impossible odds with gleeful, reckless abandon in the face of death. His violent end is stamped on the landscape, etched in folk memory.

Through skilful poetic narrative, Paterson brings to life the daring and tragedy of this quintessential bushranger tale. ‘How Gilbert Died’ hauntingly captures the harshness of colonial existence and the romantic mythos of the doomed outlaw.

How Gilbert Died

There’s never a stone at the sleeper’s head,
There’s never a fence beside,
And the wandering stock on the grave may tread
Unnoticed and undenied,
But the smallest child on the Watershed
Can tell you how Gilbert died.

For he rode at dusk, with his comrade Dunn
To the hut at the Stockman’s Ford,
In the waning light of the sinking sun
They peered with a fierce accord.
They were outlaws both — and on each man’s head
Was a thousand pounds reward.

They had taken toll of the country round,
And the troopers came behind
With a black that tracked like a human hound
In the scrub and the ranges blind:
He could run the trail where a white man’s eye
No sign of a track could find.

He had hunted them out of the One Tree Hill
And over the Old Man Plain,
But they wheeled their tracks with a wild beast’s skill,
And they made for the range again.
Then away to the hut where their grandsire dwelt,
They rode with a loosened rein.

And their grandsire gave them a greeting bold:
`Come in and rest in peace,
No safer place does the country hold —
With the night pursuit must cease,
And we’ll drink success to the roving boys,
And to hell with the black police.’

But they went to death when they entered there,
In the hut at the Stockman’s Ford,
For their grandsire’s words were as false as fair —
They were doomed to the hangman’s cord.
He had sold them both to the black police
For the sake of the big reward.

In the depth of night there are forms that glide
As stealthy as serpents creep,
And around the hut where the outlaws hide
They plant in the shadows deep,
And they wait till the first faint flush of dawn
Shall waken their prey from sleep.

But Gilbert wakes while the night is dark —
A restless sleeper, aye,
He has heard the sound of a sheep-dog’s bark,
And his horse’s warning neigh,
And he says to his mate, `There are hawks abroad,
And it’s time that we went away.’

Their rifles stood at the stretcher head,
Their bridles lay to hand,
They wakened the old man out of his bed,
When they heard the sharp command:
`In the name of the Queen lay down your arms,
Now, Dunn and Gilbert, stand!’

Then Gilbert reached for his rifle true
That close at his hand he kept,
He pointed it straight at the voice and drew,
But never a flash outleapt,
For the water ran from the rifle breech —
It was drenched while the outlaws slept.

Then he dropped the piece with a bitter oath,
And he turned to his comrade Dunn:
We are sold,’ he said,we are dead men both,
But there may be a chance for one;
I’ll stop and I’ll fight with the pistol here,
You take to your heels and run.’

So Dunn crept out on his hands and knees
In the dim, half-dawning light,
And he made his way to a patch of trees,
And vanished among the night,
And the trackers hunted his tracks all day,
But they never could trace his flight.

But Gilbert walked from the open door
In a confident style and rash;
He heard at his side the rifles roar,
And he heard the bullets crash.
But he laughed as he lifted his pistol-hand,
And he fired at the rifle flash.

Then out of the shadows the troopers aimed
At his voice and the pistol sound,
With the rifle flashes the darkness flamed,
He staggered and spun around,
And they riddled his body with rifle balls
As it lay on the blood-soaked ground.