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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PHANTOM MOB, by W. H. FLEMING First Line: Yes; I'm harry black - mad harry - and I often hear 'em say Last Line: Those pikers from the back parooI'm looking for 'em yet! Alternate Author Name(s): Page, The Subject(s): Cattle; Drovers; Ghosts; Supernatural | |||
YES; I'm Harry BlackMad Harryand I often hear 'em say: "Oh! he's off, poor chap; don't heed himhe has seen a better day. He was king of all the drovers on a dry and dusty track; He tried it once too often; it's Mad HarryHarry Black." I had got a mob of cattle out beyond the back Paroo, When stock-routes were the paddocks and fences far and few, And the track was dry as wisdom, and the days were scorching hot, The beasts were dropping off like fliesI thought we'd lose the lot. And my mates were turning crankyday and night without a drink But I kept 'em to the music, and I never slept a wink. I had to keep 'em goin', or the beggars, beast and man, Would have perished like a beetle in an empty billy-can. I woke and found, one mornin', there was not a hoof alive! But I rode around the bodies and started on to drive They were bloomin' hard to manage, but I kept 'em all the same, For whoever knows Mad Harry will admit that he is game. And I took 'em on my lonely, kept 'em movin' on the track, Till the fellows who had left me one by one came sneakin' back. And I never swore or cursed 'emsimply let 'em take a hand, Till the curious way they watched me brought me round to understand. I was drivin' ghosts o' cattlenot a live hoof in the lot! And they'd never camp a moment, though the day was blazin' hot, And at night they never rested, always movin' movin' round, With a restless sort o' movin' and a moanin' sort of sound. Till at last I swore at Murphy, cursed Joe Cowly to his teeth, And I saw their lips a-grinnin' and a skeleton beneath! I cursed 'em both as useless, and then all at once I saw They had travelled with the cattle, and were livin' men no more! Ghosts o' men and ghosts o' cattle, I could see 'em through the day In a strange and curious fashion and a hazy sort o' way; And at night they gathered round me till my flesh was all a-creep, And at lastI couldn't help itwhile they watched I fell asleep. Then they went and left me sleepin'went and left me where I lay, And I swore an oath I'd find 'em if I looked till Judgment Day! Yes, I'm Harry BlackMad Harryand I never can forget Those pikers from the back ParooI'm looking for 'em yet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE EVENINGS by LUCILLE CLIFTON THE MOTHS: 1. CIRCA 1582 by NORMAN DUBIE GHOSTS IN ENGLAND by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON EN PASSANT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |
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