Geebung, the country polo club, and the Cuff ’n’ Collars, from the city, battle annually for glory, watched by as many as 3000 spectators, more people than attend the opening of the local ski season.
The country team ride their own stockhorses, used for mustering and brumby running. To give the country team a leg-up, the city players are given their horses only an hour before the match. They’re all pretty wild rides, including some that are barely broken brumbies.
Ken Connelly and Phil Maguire started it all, while bush poet David Olsson, who played in the very first polo match, has been documenting the characters and action of the annual Dinner Plain Polo match in verse since 1989.
Here, we present a selection of his poetic perspectives from the past three decades.
2005
There is a game of Polo, Played every Easter Sunday morn, It was way back in the eighties, That the idea was first born. The country versed the city, ’pon the snowgrass lawn, The players displayed their finest skills, And the ladies’ hearts were torn. The Cuff ’n’ Collar boys Were tough and keen and mean, There was Jim Castricum, Jeremy Bayard, And Jim Nolan on the scene, With Rob and Greg as captains, The boys played as a team, Adding Craig, Geoff and Bryce, It just added to the cream. The Geebung boys were cunning, But upon the field did flow, They matched their rivals with bushman’s tricks, And gave the crowd a show. With Mad Jack and Hat and Catty, And Rusty, Scoof and Joe, Jock, Dean, Craig and Backman, Even Olsson had a go. Ken, the Man from Snowy River, Came down to lend a hand, He also liked to sing a song, And never needed a band. Old Ace was there and Husky, When the first few games were run, A lot of people tried to catch him, But his race was always won. Rusty and his grey horse Were quickest on the field, And when the band struck up at night, Old Rusty wouldn’t yield. He would dance the girls till daylight, If they could last that long, He must have had good leather soles, For he never missed a song. Matched on the ground as equals, Rode Pretty Boy Craig and Joe, And after the game was over, They continued to put on a show. In the evening lamp light, Full of beer and scotch and coke, They tried to woo the girls over, Just to see who’d get a stroke. By now the game will be over, And we will know who’s won and lost, I would like to toast the players, On their winning and their loss. May the game be played for years to come, Through good times and the bad, And we all continue playing As though we’re just a lad!
2008
Down on the lake on Friday night, The Geebung boys did meet, They hit a few balls around, And thought they were pretty neat. They had the Bryce Dicks trophy, Hanging on the wall, And wondered what he would be thinking, As they hit along the ball. A beer was had to wind things up, And a quiet toast to Bryce, Then they all went their separate ways, To settle for the night. The Cuff ’n’ Collar boys would be Up at Dinner Plain, Trying to work out their tactics, And also hide their pain. For Bryce, their captain, would not be there, And would never be again, But his legacy will live on, With how he played the game. He would not spare his team all day, And drive them to defend, In this he would not give in, Until the very end. The horses that were provided sometimes Were not fit for the task, But this didn’t hinder Bryce, Who could hit goals out his arse. Now the game of polo is over, For another year, Both teams are gathered around the bar, And the winners let out a cheer. I do hope it is the Geebung boys, Who have won it back to back, But if the Cuff ’n’ Collar boys have got up, We must have been too slack. On finishing up this story, There is only one thing to say, We will all be back again next year, And gather to the fray.
2019
30 years have come and gone, And here we are again, We’ve had some fun and a team has won, Who would have guessed back then. The Geebung boys try once a year, To practise on the lake, But as they don’t want to peak too early, Too many beers they partake. Familiar faces, all good mates, Who battle on the field, To hit some balls and get more goals, And never give nor yield. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, The girls are playing too, With Tahnee running sidelines, And Miechelle in the Cuff ’n’ Collar crew. When the day is done, And we know who’s won, Over dinner, drinks and mischief, We’ll tell tall tales with sparkling eyes, Whilst someone chats up your missus. We are getting older, The young ones are in the wings, They’ll only be playing interchange, Until the old boys lose their sting. So let us raise our glasses, To toast who’s won and lost, We’ll see you all again next year, At Cobungra in the frost.
2024
This year’s a little different, Without Olsson on the field, Mitchell and Tahnee have taken his place, To ensure the boys don’t yield. Bonnie’s running sidelines, To give the boys a break, And the Geebungs planned their tactics, Down upon the Lake. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, There’re some young ones coming through, Geebungs have Xavier and Sylvie, And Cuff ’n’ Collar have Jett too. The game is now long over, But there’s one thing left to say, You best be back next year, Olsson, To help keep those Cuff ’n’ Collar boys at bay.
The Geebung Polo Club was written in the late 19th century by famed Australian bush poet Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson, and published in 1895 in his first anthology, The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses.
