Monday, 23 September 2013


(c) expired


They rode by the Diamantina
and alongside the Barcoo and never saw
another living soul.
They crossed the Haddon Corner
where the days are hot and long
and never thought
they'd ever reach their goal.

But there they met a fellow
with beard of salted grey
who told them of a place
that he'd once been.
They spent the night in dreaming
as young men often do
of the rich life that their new friend
said he'd seen.

In the shadows of the Beal Range
they packed again their swags
and made off
in the early morning light.
With their pans upon their shoulders
and strong boots they'd always worn
these two young men did make a splendid sight.

All day long, the adventurers bore
the sticky tiresome heat
and ever brushed
at buzzing swarms of flies.
They trudged along till day was night
and cooling shadows fell
giving welcome rest
to itchy, swollen eyes.

They found again their old campsite
that they'd made among the trees
and settled down
to rest their weary bones. 
They talked of Clancy of the Overflow
and of others that they'd heard
and slept once more
ignoring ghostly groans.

For at this unimposing campsite
some knew there once had been
a ghastly night,
of deeds so very foul
when a man had once been murdered
for another's pot of gold
and this evil deed
had made him ever prowl.

Not knowing of this long gone time
they dreamt the night away
with golden thoughts 
still racing through their mind.
They never woke to see the ghost
with beard of salted grey
who had ensured
that no gold would they find.

'Twas many years before they found,
at the campsite near the bank,
their whitened bones
still in their bloodied rags.
'Tis said the ghost with beard of grey
makes eerie sounds at night..
and still, it's said, he preys on men
who carry mining swags.

© Crissouli

No comments:

Post a Comment

Your comment will be visible once approved. Thank you.