"The Ballad Of Ben Hall" poem by Mikie Maas
Posted: Fri Mar 25, 2011 10:31 am
(Founder, Dorothea Mackellar Student Poetry Awards) Mikie Maas is a Gunnedah resident , the founder of the poetry awards for students. I didn't realise that Mrs Maas had wriiten poetry herself until i came across a (1988) bi-centennial eisteddfod poetry book in which her poem was published.
"The Ballad Of Ben Hall"
Ben Hall was borned at Breeza,
In Eighteen Thirty Seven,
An honest lad, who earned his keep,
When barely aged eleven.
He grew into a strong willed man,
Who owned a squatting run,
He shared his life with a pretty wife,
And a precious son.
Then suddenly in sixty two,
There came that fateful day,
When troopers stormed his pieceful camp,
And took Ben Hall away.
In Orange he was falsely charged,
With Highway robbery,
A month in jail .... till truth prevailed,
And justice set him free.
Relief turned into bitter grief,
When coming home he found,
His wife had gone .... they took his son ...
His cattle dead ... all 'round.
Down on his knees he clenched his fists,
And crying beat his chest,
'They said i was a Bushranger ...
Now i be one! and the best!'
Who roamed the roads for three long years?
Who gathered wealth and fame,
Who robbed, but never killed a man,
BEN HALL! that was his name.
A thousand pounds was on his head!
And claimed .... by his best mate,
In Forbes the troopers shot him dead,
He just turned twenty eight.
His riddled body on parade,
The traps in triumph led!
A silent crowd dispersed to find,
The Judas-Friend had fled.
Today some say Ben earned his fate ....
Yet others will recall,
The way our poets mourned the death,
Of Breeza boy, BEN HALL.
Mikie Maas (Founder, Dorothea Mackellar Student Poetry Awards)
"The Ballad Of Ben Hall"
Ben Hall was borned at Breeza,
In Eighteen Thirty Seven,
An honest lad, who earned his keep,
When barely aged eleven.
He grew into a strong willed man,
Who owned a squatting run,
He shared his life with a pretty wife,
And a precious son.
Then suddenly in sixty two,
There came that fateful day,
When troopers stormed his pieceful camp,
And took Ben Hall away.
In Orange he was falsely charged,
With Highway robbery,
A month in jail .... till truth prevailed,
And justice set him free.
Relief turned into bitter grief,
When coming home he found,
His wife had gone .... they took his son ...
His cattle dead ... all 'round.
Down on his knees he clenched his fists,
And crying beat his chest,
'They said i was a Bushranger ...
Now i be one! and the best!'
Who roamed the roads for three long years?
Who gathered wealth and fame,
Who robbed, but never killed a man,
BEN HALL! that was his name.
A thousand pounds was on his head!
And claimed .... by his best mate,
In Forbes the troopers shot him dead,
He just turned twenty eight.
His riddled body on parade,
The traps in triumph led!
A silent crowd dispersed to find,
The Judas-Friend had fled.
Today some say Ben earned his fate ....
Yet others will recall,
The way our poets mourned the death,
Of Breeza boy, BEN HALL.
Mikie Maas (Founder, Dorothea Mackellar Student Poetry Awards)