Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DELANEY'S VENDETTA, by R. J. CASSIDY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DELANEY'S VENDETTA, by                    
First Line: This is the story told to me, in the midst of the desert's glare
Last Line: "with god as a ruthless murderer or only a suicide?"
Alternate Author Name(s): Gilrooney
Subject(s): Murder; Revenge; Suicide; Vendetta; Feuds


THIS is the story told to me, in the midst of the desert's glare,
By Jack McCluskey as we trudged on the track to God-Knows-Where.

"So you never heard of Delaney's chase through the heart of the Lonely Lands,
Along the Trickle and out across the shimmering seas of sand?
Well, this is the way the thing began"—I wondered at the pause—
"Delaney murdered his wife because ... well, murdered her because.

"He murdered her so secretly in a place with eyes so few
That why she died and how she died no other mortal knew.
And then a great remorse set in, and Bill Delaney swore
That the man who killed his woman-mate would live to kill no more.

"He swore that he would follow (and he laughed with mirthless glee)—
Follow the trail of vengeance till the end of eternity;
Yes, follow on, unwearying, and careless of all the woe
That comes to the man who dares to tramp the land that the hatters know.

"And, swearing so, he rolled his swag—a big six-shooter in
Its fold and a butcher's knife, keen-edged, to carve out a crimson sin;
And off he set on the long long chase after the man whose hate
Had killed the woman who, right or wrong, was his mate—his only mate.

"He chased from Bourke to Hungerford, and back to Bourke again,
Then out across the mulga belts and over the saltbush plain,
Then down along the Darling track and out to Broken Hill—
The only thought in his maddened brain to capture and to kill!

"Then north to far-off Barringun, and across the Corner waste—
And every mile he tramped sped up his hot vendetta'd haste,
The 'cheque-man' at the shanties looked and saw him swiftly pass,
Determined never to take a rest or a friendly, cheering glass.

"He tramped and tramped, and his hatred grew with every mile he trod;
He swore revenge by the faiths he held—revenge by the living God!
The dog that slouched at his heels knocked up, and a bullet in its brain
Made it a lifeless, yellow dot on the great grey, glittering plain.

"But came a day when the quarry slowed in his misery and fear,
And Delaney knew that at this long last avenging's hour was near.
A shot that shook the silences ... a small smoke curl that rose ...
A man that lay on the shining sand in undisturbed repose.

"I wonder now," McCluskey mused, "did Delaney go to abide
With God as a ruthless murderer or only a suicide?"





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