Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A WILD GOOSE CHASE IN THE WHIPSTICK SCRUB, by H. HEAD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A WILD GOOSE CHASE IN THE WHIPSTICK SCRUB, by                    
First Line: Old jack gave us a wild goose chase
Last Line: That ever formed a team.
Subject(s): Fools; Gold; Gold Mines & Miners; Hunting; Idiots; Hunters


OLD Jack gave us a wild goose chase
By telling us one day
Some men were digging at a place
About ten miles away;
In the north-west and very near
The famous Whipstick Scrub,
And yesterday they'd been in here
To Eaglehawk for grub.

They'd purchased at the Beehive store
And sold a lot of gold,
Mostly nuggets, had plenty more—
Such was the story told
By Jack, who said they left at dark,
That none might see them start;
But, added he, they'd leave their mark,
As they had mule and cart.

"Well, now really, that surpasses
The new-chums, to my mind,
Mule-cart, why the darned jackasses,
A man might track them blind!
So boys just you engage to go,
And I'll engage to track";
Thus spoke our long-legged Yankee Joe
In answer to old Jack.

So six of us agreed to start
With Joseph at our head
To find the track of that mule-cart
And go where'er it led.
Alas for us it rained that night,
Tracks obliterating,
And though we were confounded quite,
We didn't stay debating.

We would have gone to Eaglehawk,
Of that there's little doubt,
And found the track left by the moke,
But then it was washed out.
Compass we'd none, which didn't matter,
Joe being good at guessing,
And so we steered by the latter,
North a little westing.

We quickly reached the Whipstick,
And had to cut our ways
Through tangled vine and scrub so thick
It was just like a maze;
But this was Eighteen fifty-three,
And though it's Whipstick still,
A road runs through now where you see
The flagstaff on the hill.

We had our tools for prospecting,
Tin dish, tea and billy,
Fowling-piece, and all excepting
Grub, which does seem silly;
But Joe arranged the night before,
And each his lot allotted;
Mine was the gun and provender,
But I quite forgot it.

I took the gun, which proved of use,
Though parrots were no change,
And though we chased a fine wild goose,
'Twas far beyond our range;
However we some parrots shot
And wattle-birds as well,
Of which, and native cabbage,
We made a hearty meal.

'Twas time to think of getting out,
Yet no way could we see,
When Harry had a brilliant thought,
Which was to climb a tree;
But this was easier said than done,
There being but whipstick there,
And very soon the sun went down;
Still we did not despair.

We found a clump of these small trees,
Twisted them together,
Then Harry clambered up in these—
They wouldn't bear however.
Yet when strong arms shored up all round
He could no longer doubt,
Tried again, saw open ground,
Then led the party out.

We steered a course as we thought east,
From where the sun went down,
Which brought us to a muddy creek
At dark (there being no moon),
The name of which we did not know,
Nor yet the creek by sight.
Joe guessed it was the Bendigo
And he for once was right.

We followed up eight miles or more,
Which proved a weary walk,
And brought us to a little store
At foot of Eaglehawk.
We could not then buy baker's bread,
As diggers baked their own,
But bought some biscuit, Melbourne made,
At one and nine per pound.

'Twas very hard alas for Joe,
Who grinders couldn't boast of;
I offered some, but he said, "No
Thank you, none for Joseph;"
Which was his name, and Green I think
Or else I know not why
It should be on his handkerchief—
It came not from his eye.

In six miles more of weary tramp,
For we were wearied quite,
We reached our Sailor's Gully camp
By twelve o'clock at night;
Fire was smould'ring in the ashes,
And soon the kettle's steam
Hissed on six of the biggest asses
That ever formed a team.





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