Which is not to say that Australians—equally insecure about their lack of history—weren’t prone to the same sort of thing from time to time.
There was movement at the station for the word had got around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses—he was worth a thousand pounds
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray…
Amongst whom rode the immortal Man from Snowy River, the basis of great lumbering movies and TV shows, and who they are still trying to identify to his day. But I found no magic in this work of Banjo Paterson, and the only poem of his I really remember—indeed one of the few I can quote from freely—is Clancy of the Overflow. Of course, it has to be done in the appropriate accent.