
Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson's "Moving On" is a short, two-stanza World War I poem that departs sharply from his more celebrated bush ballads of heroic frontier life, offering instead a spare, unromantic reflection on the grinding impermanence of a soldier's existence. The first stanza establishes the poem's central refrain and governing metaphor: in war, life is defined by perpetual displacement — "we're always moving, / Moving on." Friendships form and dissolve in the same breath, as "when we make a friend another friend has gone." Even fleeting moments of comfort or human warmth, such as being welcomed by "a woman's kindly face," prove only temporary respites; no sooner is such tenderness found than duty calls the soldiers away again — "it's boot and saddle, boys, we're / Moving on." The martial idiom of saddling up underscores that this restlessness is not chosen but compelled, an obligation imposed by the machinery of war rather than a romantic yearning for the open road, as is more typical in Paterson's outback verse. The second stanza transposes this same relentless motion onto the hospitals, where the wounded and dying pass through with equal transience: "They're here today, tomorrow they are gone." Here the poem's tone darkens considerably, as "moving on" becomes a euphemism not merely for redeployment but for death itself. When "the bravest and the best / Of the boys you know 'go west'" — the well-known First World War euphemism for being killed — the survivors are afforded no space for prolonged grief. They must swallow their sorrow, "choking down your tears," and continue onward, because the war affords no pause for mourning. The repetition of the refrain "Moving on" across both stanzas binds the two experiences — the constant social uprooting of active service and the constant loss of comrades to death — into a single, cumulative rhythm of endurance. Structurally, the poem's brevity and insistent repetition mimic the numbing monotony it describes: there is no narrative arc, no resolution, only the same forced motion recurring stanza after stanza, verse after verse, as though the poem itself cannot stop moving any more than its soldiers can. This formal choice reinforces the central idea that the war strips away the luxury of settling — into friendships, into affection, into grief — and reduces existence to a bare, cyclical imperative to keep going. Unlike Paterson's earlier work, which often romanticized itinerancy (the drover, the swagman, the man from Snowy River) as a mark of rugged independence and adventure, "Moving On" reframes constant movement as a form of quiet suffering, a psychological and emotional toll extracted by war rather than a chosen freedom. The poem's understatement, plain diction, and colloquial soldier's voice give it an authenticity of tone that avoids sentimentality even as it treats deeply painful subject matter — the erosion of stable human connection and the necessity of suppressing grief in order to survive. In this way, "Moving On" stands as one of Paterson's more sober meditations on the First World War, using the imagery and vocabulary he had long applied to bush life and reapplying it to convey the disorienting, dehumanizing rootlessness of soldiers caught in continuous conflict.
By Andrew Barton Paterson · First published 1940 · Genre: War Poetry, Poetry, Historical Poetry · 137 words
In this war we're always moving, / Moving on; / When we make a friend another friend has gone; / Should a woman's kindly face / Make us welcome for a space, / Then it's boot and saddle, boys, we're / Moving on.
In the hospitals they're moving, / Moving on; / They're here today, tomorrow they are gone; / When the bravest and the best / Of the boys you know "go west", / Then you're choking down your tears and / Moving on.
The Kia-ora Coo-ee, May 1918
wartime · World War I · poetry · Australian literature · soldiers · military · loss · grief · transience · impermanence · friendship · sacrifice
Moving On is listed on Textopian as a poem by Andrew Barton Paterson, dated 1940 CE.
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