Can Anybody Help Col?

[keats]

G'day Neil

Thanks again for putting info re Bendigo Poets on back of latest magazine.

One of our older Bendigo poets members gave me two lines to a poem he re-calls in part from long ago, and
one to another, for me to try and find poem(s) and authors.

Google has not given me any leads.

Years ago there used to be the occasional request for "Lost Poetry" in ABPA Newsletter.

Appreciate if you could put in an item for these:

1.

A bolt of lightning from the sky lit up the darkened track
and a horse it raced across the plains with a madman on its back.


2. How is it Jack that you don't drink

Cheers
Colin Carrington

[manfredvijars]

Yes Neil, that's from "The Stockman's Tale"
in a collection called "Old Ballads From the Bush"
Douglas Stewart and Nancy Keeting
first Published by A&R in 1987.

PM me Col's address and I'll mail/email him a copy ...

PS. apparently it's by 'Anon'

[manfredvijars]

Here you go Neil ...
(Thanks to Jack Drake)

"Old Ballads From the Bush"
'Anon'

Introduction by Bill Scott
Angus & Robertson
ISBN 0 2097 15465 1
(1923)


THE STOCKMAN'S TALE

The campfire's burning brightly, and the coals are glowing red,
The crackling sparks fly upwards as they vanish overhead.
The stockman's evening meal was over, the damper stowed away,
To stretch our weary limbs around the fire we lay;
"Put on another log, Jack, a good large one—that's right,
And make us up a bully fire—we'll have it cold tonight.

"Before you light that pipe of yours, just look in my valise,
You'll find a flask of good Three Star, there's just a nip apiece.
Come, mate, pass up your pannikin, there's plenty here you see."
"No thank you, Boss, I'd rather not; no brandy, sir, for me."
"How is it, Ned, you never drink, I've seen you tempted oft,
And if you chance to take a drink, it's always something soft?'"

"1 once was wild," the stockman cried, "as any man could be,
And many a hard-earned cheque I knocked down in a spree.
"But times have changed, and now on drink I look with dread and fear,
And were I my story to relate, it would move you all to hear."
To tell the story of his life, on him we did prevail
And gathered closely round the fire, to hear the stockman's tale.

The hardy stockman heaved a sigh, his face was sad and wan,
He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and thus his tale began:
"Three years ago or nearly so (how fast the time rolls by!)
We were droving on those western plains, my brother Ben and I.
"It,is about my brother Ben I wish to speak the most,
A gay and manly lad was he as the country round could boast;

But for all his many virtues, he one great failing had
And that was Drink—through cursed Drink I've seen him raving mad.
"But soon as he had sober grown, a steady chap was he,
He earned his cheque and sent it home—not knocked it down like me.
We were in charge of a mob of cattle with other stockmen three,
And droving through those summer months right merry times had we.

"One night we camped the cattle mob upon some rising ground,
And when they'd steadied for the night, we built the fires around;
And then to have a merry time, 1 for the grog did call,
And soon 1 was, myself, the merriest of them all.
"My brother Ben joined in the fun, and many a song we sung,
We made those flying curlews scream and the woods with echoes rung;

But Ben he would not touch a drop although we pressed him hard,
To all our soft entreaties he paid not the least regard.
" Come, Ben,' 1 said, 'don't be so mean, to stand the odd man out,
You know I've seen you drink your share when the liquor's been about!'
But, Ned, 1 have not touched a drop these three long years,' he said,
'And well you know how crazed I go when the stuff gets to my head!'

" 'Nonsense, man, the night is cold, you need only have one glass!'
'One, only one,' the chorus chimed, and round the grog they passed.
He yielded to that fatal glass which makes me sad to think
That I the only man in this world could make my brother drink!
"Hour upon hour, glass upon glass, we brothers sat and drank
Till weary in the night's caress, in a drunken sleep I sank.

How long I slept I do not know—I woke to sleep no more,
The distant thunder broke my rest, a storm was gathering o'er.
"I rose and stirred the dying fire, and tried to rouse the men
But, looking round with beating heart, I missed my brother Ben.
Just then a vivid lightning flash lit up the gloomy plain
I saw Ben riding madly by, then all was dark again.

"Aloud I cried, 'Hold hard awhile!' but his voice came terse and hollow,
'Ha, ha!' he cried, 'to Death I ride; come on. you dare not follow!'
I snatched my whip from off the ground, my horse n standing near,
And as I to the saddle sprang my heart stood still with fear
"He headed for the timber-land with dark and gloom ahead.
And as I spurred with rapid strides my maddened stock horse fled;

I tried to grasp Ben's bridle-rein, his horse swerved from the track
And went plunging through the midnight with a madman on its back.
"His horse, not being used to this, tried hard his head to free
And, rearing back, he struck poor Ben against a leaning tree.
Dismounting, 1 was on the ground and raised his drooping head,
And as 1 looked into his eyes I could not think him dead.

"But what a sight to me, alas, the coming dawn revealed,
His blue eyes were for ever closed, his lips with blood were sealed.
—Ah! who will break the news at home and tell his poor aged mother
The death of her beloved son. my one and only brother
"And to think that I his murderer was!—from the ghastly thought I shrink:
Killed by lack oi intellect, through the cursed demon drink.

On yonder sloping mountainside a lonely grave you'll see
All covered in with grass and moss, beneath a cedar-tree
No marble cross or monument this lonely grave doth mark
But we rudely carved my brother's name deep in the growing bark."
And now, my boys, take warning all. before it is too late.
Think of the stockman's awful tale, and his poor young brother's fate:

Say with a will, "I will not drink"! or you will others tempt
Pass it by as I always have with silent cool contempt.
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