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Jim’s Australiana Spot – 2UE - January 31, 2016


Mark from Minchinbury wanted to know where the term "BRUMBY" originated. So Jim went looking.

1 What was the poet John O'Brien's connection to 'The Man from Snowy River'.
  He was Fr Patrick Hartigan in 1911 at Khancoban  he gave the last sacraments to Jack Riley of Bringenbrong, said to have been A. B. Paterson's 'The Man from Snowy River')
2 What is a Timor pony? and a Waler
  A breed of ponies from Timor - 'New South Waler' horse bred in NSW often from brumby stock
3 Where in Australia would you find a protected group of horses descended from Timor ponies?
  Coffin Bay, SA

Possible derivations
1       Horses left behind by Sgt James Brumby from his property at Mulgrave Place when he left for Tasmania in 1804.

2       The word baroomby meaning "wild" in the language of the Pitjara people on the Warrego and Nogoa Rivers.

3       An Irish word bromach or bromaigh meaning wild.

Controversy over brumbies in Alps and in at Coffin Bay National Park
•       A GULLY RAKER was a brumby catcher.

by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

A Supreme Court Judge, hearing of Brumby horses, asked: "Who is Brumby, and where is his Run?"
It lies beyond the Western Pines 
Towards the sinking sun,
And not a survey mark defines 
The bounds of "Brumby's Run".
 On odds and ends of mountain land, 
On tracks of range and rock
Where no one else can make a stand, 
Old Brumby rears his stock.

 A wild, unhandled lot they are 
Of every shape and breed.
They venture out 'neath moon and star 
Along the flats to feed;

 But when the dawn makes pink the sky 
And steals along the plain,
The Brumby horses turn and fly 
Towards the hills again.

 The traveller by the mountain-track 
May hear their hoof-beats pass,
And catch a glimpse of brown and black 
Dim shadows on the grass.
 The eager stockhorse pricks his ears 
And lifts his head on high
In wild excitement when he hears 
The Brumby mob go by.

 Old Brumby asks no price or fee 
O'er all his wide domains:
The man who yards his stock is free 
To keep them for his pains.

 So, off to scour the mountain-side 
With eager eyes aglow,
To strongholds where the wild mobs hide 
The gully-rakers go.

 A rush of horses through the trees, 
A red shirt making play;
A sound of stockwhips on the breeze, 
They vanish far away!
      .    .    .    .    .
 Ah, me! before our day is done 
We long with bitter pain
To ride once more on Brumby's Run 
And yard his mob again.


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