Hei héiert der déi geschwate Versioun.

 

 

An der Stuff am alen Haischen wou en trauregt Häerz mol schléit,

Wann e Sänger oder Lieser eng Geschicht, e Lidd virdréit,

An dat Dichterhäerz beréiert jidder Häerz mat jiddwer Reim

Bis dee Stuerste kämpft mat Tréinen bei der Weis vun Auld Lang Syne;

Da béit sech e Sëffer eeschtlech vir a flucht an engem Stéck —

E Gebiet a senger Séil, Drëpp an Tréin a sengem Bléck —

"Gutt gesot, Jong! Gëff et hinnen! Nondikass, dat ass sou schéin!

't ass scho gutt; mir geet et. Weess de! Jong, wéi heeschs de? Komm nach drop!

Wien huet dat Gedicht geschriwwen? Schreifs d'et eemol fir mech op?"

 

An den Dueref-Dichter schreift et trefflech op ewéi gewënscht

Well hie weess, wéi hien de Wee fënnt déif an d'Häerz vu jiddwer Mënsch;

Hien erkennt mat Komerodschaft, wat hiert Häerz esou begiert

An hie wëllt si déif beréieren, bis hien hir Gefiller spiert

An hien deelt hir Léift a Freeden, an den Haass och uewendrop

Dann hëlt hien de Bic a schreift et, Trouscht an Tréin, all fir si op.

 

 

1905 kënnt dem Lawson säin drëtte renge Gedichtband mat dem Titel When I Was King and Other Verses [Wéi ech Kinnek war, an aner Gedichter] eraus. Ënnert deene 76 Gedichter am Band ass och dat heiten. D'Stëmmung an Schreifs d'et eemol fir mech op? erënnert un déi Zäit, wéi d'Leit an den Dierfer zu Lëtzebuerg uuchte gaange sinn. Éier et an all Stot e Fernseh ginn ass, an éier iwwerhaapt een un Tablets an Handye geduecht huet, hunn d'Noperen sech an den däischteren Hierscht- a Wanterdeeg owes bei engem doheem getraff, hunn zesumme gesong oder sech Geschichten erzielt. Esou e gesellegt Zesummesëtzen fanne mer och hei am Text, just eben am australeschen Outback amplaz an engem verluerene klengen Duerf iergendwou an Europa.

 

Wéi schonn an Den ongebilten Dichter weist de Lawson och an dësem Gedicht, dass hie sech den einfache Leit méi verbonn fillt wéi deenen aus der Stad, obschonns ‒ oder vermuttlech grad well ‒ hien als wäit gereeste Schrëftsteller a Jong vun enger Verleeërin e perspicacen a schaarfsënnegen Denker war. De Lawson huet sech als den Dichter vum Outback gesinn, an hie wosst, dass dat haart Liewen am onerbittlechen australesche Busch méi wéi een dozou gedriwwen huet, säi Leed am Alkohol ze ersaufen, esou wéi de Sëffer mat dem romanteschen Häerz an dësem Gedicht.

 

En deemolege Rezensent vum Lawson sengem virege Gedichtband Verses, Popular and Humorous huet et op de Punkt bruecht: "Hei fanne mer erëm dee selwechte schaarfsënnege Bléck op déi net esou schéi Säit vum Liewen an de Kolonien, déi selwecht staark Sympathie fir d'Problemer vum Doléiner, vum Clochard a vum einfachen Aarbechter mat de Bloderen un den Hänn, de selwechte sozialistesche Standpunkt an déi selwecht Ofneigung géint d'Klassendenken. De Lawson stoung ëmmer op der Säit vun de Leit, an hie schreift och fir d'Leit." (Lawson's Second Book of Verse. In: The Queenslander 22.12.1900, p 1258.)

 

 

 

 

In the parlour of the shanty where the lives have all gone wrong,

When a singer or reciter gives a story or a song,

Where the poet's heart is speaking to their hearts in every line,

Till the hardest curse and blubber at the thoughts of Auld Lang Syne;

Then a boozer lurches forward with an oath for all disguise —

Prayers and curses in his soul, and tears and liquor in his eyes —

Grasps the singer or reciter with a death-grip by the hand:

'That's the truth, bloke! Sling it at 'em! Oh! Gorbli'me, that was grand!

Don't mind me; I've got 'em. You know! What's yer name, bloke! Don't yer see?

Who's the bloke what wrote the po'try? Will yer write it down fer me?"

 

And the backblocks' bard goes through it, ever seeking as he goes

For the line of least resistance to the hearts of men he knows;

And he tracks their hearts in mateship, and he tracks them out alone —

Seeking for the power to sway them, till he finds it in his own,

Feels what they feel, loves what they love, learns to hate what they condemn,

Takes his pen in tears and triumph, and he writes it down for them.

 

 

In 1905, Lawson published his third poetry collection entitled When I Was King and Other Verses. It consists of a total of 76 works, among them the present poem. The atmosphere in Will Yer Write It Down for Me? reminds me of a bygone time when the villagers in Luxembourg went uucht-ing. Long before every household owned a television set, and before anyone even thought of tablets or cell phones, neighbouring households would casually come together in their homes during the dark autumn and winter evenings and they would sing songs and tell each other stories. This poem presents us with just such a merry get-together, only it is set in the Australian Outback instead of in a forlorn village somewhere in the heart of Europe.

 

Just like The Uncultured Rhymer, these verses clearly show that Lawson sides with the common people rather than with the city folk, although ‒ or more likely because ‒ he was a seasoned traveller, a publisher's son and a perceptive and thoughtful author in his own right. Lawson considered himself a poet of the Outback and he knew how life in the unforgiving Australian hinterland could drive a soul to drown his sorrows in alcohol, like the romantic-at-heart boozer in this poem.

 

An erstwhile reviewer of Lawson's second poetry collection Verses, Popular and Humorous put it like this: "There is the same keen observation of the underside of life in the colonies, the same acute sympathy with the woes of the swaggie, or the dead-beat, or the horny-handed son of toil, the same socialistic standpoint, and the same hatred of class distinction. Lawson has always been of the people, and has written for the people." (Lawson's Second Book of Verse. In: The Queenslander 22.12.1900, p 1258.)