Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A WILD GOOSE CHASE IN THE WHIPSTICK SCRUB, by H. HEAD 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAMENT OF QUARRY by LEONIE ADAMS KILLDEER by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE YOUNG FOWLER THAT MISTOOK HIS GAME by PHILIP AYRES |
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