ABPA — The Australian Bush Poets Association Inc.

The Trial of Harry Redford

© Shelley Hansen

Winner, 2025 “Banjo’s Boot” National Written Poetry Championship, Bathurst NSW.

Roma District Court, Queensland – 1873

“All rise!” cried the clerk as a silence swept through
a courtroom in Roma, with spectators who
had come to applaud, or condemn as a crime
one man’s daring act – unsurpassed in its time.
The prisoner, handcuffed, was led to the dock.
The judge shouted, “Order!” as some rose to mock.
The charge – cattle theft – was a dastardly deed.
His Honour demanded, “Sir! How do you plead?”

“Not guilty!” The ringing reply drew a roar.
Some shouted, “Hooray!” Others stomped on the floor –
then, silenced at last with a threatening word,
sat down to allow all the facts to be heard.
The soft Mitchell grasses on Bowen Downs run
bred cattle of quality second to none.
Throughout all of Queensland their brand was well-known
when bold Harry Redford’s ambition was sown.

He figured a thousand or so may well stray
and wouldn’t be noticed until far away,
and so with his mates George and Bill, he began
to separate out the unbranded, and plan
to drive a herd south through the desert in haste,
to conquer Strzelecki – whose waterless waste
had killed Burke and Wills only ten years before.
The promise of wealth banished dangers in store.

The trio set out under cover of night
with one thousand head – and a bull that was white.
His calmness would settle the cows in a fret –
but this was a choice they would live to regret.
They reached Artracoona in three months or so
and traded the bull when their rations ran low,
then via Mount Hopeless, arrived at Marree
where cattle were sold for an outstanding fee.

Conviction depended on leaving no doubt
the stock that he sold were the ones that set out
from Bowen Downs station – but lacking its brand,
they had to establish by hearing first-hand
reliable evidence. Thus it became
a case where a witness could firmly fix blame.
So would his decision to take that white bull
bring guilt, shame and punishment on him in full?

“First witness,” the Crown lawyer cried out with zeal.
The Bowen Downs foreman rose up to reveal
that he had been sent to the Gracemere stock sale
and saw a white bull, which he knew without fail
was English – and worth about five hundred pound –
the envy of stations for miles all around.
“I bought him, your Honour – the pride of the Downs!”
“Just stick to the facts,” growled the judge, wreathed in frowns.

The bull was at court and it stood right outside
with two tell-tale brandmarks adorning its hide.
They trekked out to view it. The lawyer said, “Think …
your answer might rescue this case from the brink.
I’ll ask you just once if this bull standing here
could be the same animal you bought that year.
Again I repeat – is this bull known to you?”
The answer? “I’d know this bloke’s bones in a stew!”

Well, you can imagine! The court rose as one!
The judge called for order, declared the case “done”.
The jury retired to debate right and wrong.
Suspense was electric. It didn’t take long
before they were back, and stood up to declare
the popular verdict – NOT GUILTY – with flair!
The judge, in amazement, said after a pause,
“I’m glad that this verdict is not mine, but yours!”

The courtroom erupted with deafening din!
Some called it a victory – others, a sin.
But Harry just winked with those blue Irish eyes
as if his acquittal had been no surprise.
The bigwigs in Brisbane were less than amused.
They shut down the court, and their letters accused
both judge and the jury of “lack of respect”,
which seemingly let such a crime go unchecked.

But truly, those men saw the heart of the case,
as bushcraft and bravery joined to efface
the guilt of his actions – for, blazing the trail,
this man had succeeded where many might fail.
Then others retraced Harry’s drive through the west,
and learned from his journey which route was the best,
and fifty years later they still made it pay
because Harry Redford had shown them the way.


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