Wry Depictions of Extreme Poverty in Paterson’s Bush Ballad

This folk ballad adopts the voice of a swagman describing the harsh living conditions and crude realities of making do in an improvised bark hut in the Australian bush.

With wry humor, the swagman catalogues the primitive furnishings like makeshift bark tables and gin case stools that furnish the dingy shelter. Vivid details give a visceral sense of the discomforts – flies swarming food, peppery soot, rain flooding in holes.

Paterson affectionately depicts the swagman’s resilience and optimism, making the best of his situation through song. A stoic satisfaction rings through in lines like “what won’t fatten will fill up.”

While humorously exaggerated, the poem does highlight the extreme poverty of itinerant workers and challenges of bush life for Australia’s underclass. Their irrepressible spirit comes through despite the privations.

Written in the distinctive Australian vernacular of the swagman, Paterson entertainingly brings to life the ingenuity required to survive in the harsh outback. Through immersive description, we get an inside view of hidden hardships and squalor behind the romantic legends of the bush.

So “The Old Bark Hut” paints a vivid picture of the Australian interior’s extremes through the eyes of a swagman. Paterson blends hardship and humor to provide an affecting depiction of itinerant life at the fringe of colonial society.

THE OLD BARK HUT

Oh, my name is Bob the Swagman, before you all I stand,
And I’ve had many ups and downs while travelling through
the land.
I once was well-to-do, my boys, but now I am stumped up,
And I’m forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut.  In an old bark hut.
  I'm forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.

Ten pounds of flour, ten pounds of beef, some sugar and
some tea,
That’s all they give to a hungry man, until the Seventh Day.
If you don’t be moighty sparing, you’ll go with a hungry
gut–
For that’s one of the great misfortunes in an old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  For that's one of the great misfortunes in an old
       bark hut.

The bucket you boil your beef in has to carry water, too,
And they’ll say you’re getting mighty flash if you should ask
for two.
I’ve a billy, and a pint pot, and a broken-handled cup,
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

Faith, the table is not made of wood, as many you have seen–
For if I had one half so good, I’d think myself serene–
‘Tis only an old sheet of bark–God knows when it was cut–
It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.

And of furniture, there’s no such thing, ’twas never in the
place,
Except the stool I sit upon–and that’s an old gin case.
It does us for a safe as well, but you must keep it shut,
Or the flies would make it canter round the old hark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut.  In an old bark hut.
  Or the flies would make it canter round the old bark
      hut.

If you should leave it open, and the flies should find your
meat,
They’ll scarcely leave a single piece that’s fit for man to eat.
But you mustn’t curse, nor grumble–what won’t fatten will
fill up–
For what’s out of sight is out of mind in an old bark hut.

               Chorus
   In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
   For what's out of sight is out of mind in an old
        bark hut.

In the summer time, when the weather’s warm, this hut is
nice and cool,
And you’ll find the gentle breezes blowing in through every
hole.
You can leave the old door open, or you can leave it shut,
There’s no fear of suffocation in the old bark hut.

               Chorus

   In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
   There's no fear of suffocation in the old bark hut.

In the winter time–preserve us all–to live in there’s a
treat
Especially when it’s raining hard, and blowing wind and
sleet.

The rain comes down the chimney, and your meat is black
with soot–
That’s a substitute for pepper in an old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  That's a substitute for pepper in an old bark hut.

I’ve seen the rain come in this hut just like a perfect flood,
Especially through that great big hole where once the table
stood.
There’s not a blessed spot, me boys, where you could lay
your nut,
But the rain is sure to find you in the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  But the rain is sure to find you in the old bark hut.

So beside the fire I make me bed, and there I lay me down,
And think myself as happy as the king that wears a crown.
But as you’d be dozing off to sleep a flea will wake you up,
Which makes you curse the vermin in the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  Which makes you curse the vermin in the old bark
       hut.

Faith, such flocks of fleas you never saw, they are so plump
and fat,
And if you make a grab at one, he’ll spit just like a cat.
Last night they got my pack of cards, and were fighting for
the cut–
I thought the devil had me in the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  I thought the devil had me in the old bark hut.

So now, my friends, I’ve sung my song, and that as well as I
could,
And I hope the ladies present won’t think my language rude,
And all ye younger people, in the days when you grow up,
Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.

               Chorus

  In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
  Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.