Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ADAMS RIVER BUSH, by M. J. O'REILLY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ADAMS RIVER BUSH, by                    
First Line: We left good old coolgardie
Last Line: With the adams river rush.
Alternate Author Name(s): Mick, Mulga
Subject(s): Gold; Gold Mines & Miners; Travel; Journeys; Trips


We left good old Coolgardie
And the hardships of the West
Where the tracks are dry and dusty
And the flies a blooming pest,
And we sailed away for Tassie,
The land of snow and slush,
To try our luck at digging
On the Adams River Rush.

When we landed in that island
At a place called Hobart Town,
The day was dark and dreary
For the rain was pouring down.
So, to drown our grief and sorrow
We joined the Tassie push,
Forgetting all the Ossie
And the Adams River Rush.

We helped the boys at mopping up
The local beer and stout;
Till the only thing we thought of was,
Who's next in turn to shout?
Our outback conversation
Oftimes made the barmaid blush,
Till she wished that we were started
For the Adams River Rush.

Soon we bade good-bye to Hobart Town
As the days were getting fine,
And we started up the river
On the Derwent Valley line.
At a place they called Fitzgerald
We were clear of all the push,
Up went our packs upon our backs
For the Adams River Rush.

We set out then o'er hill and dale
To climb that winding track;
Though our swags were light, before that night
Each had an aching back.
Through peppermint and stringybark
The best we e'er had seen—
But such a sight caused no delight
Till we reached the Florentine.

We camped that night upon the bank
Of that rapid-flowing stream
And talked of the time we'd spent in town,
Till it all seemed like a dream;
As we lay at rest upon our swags
Amidst sundown's shrouding flush,
It seemed our lives would start afresh
On the Adams River Rush.

From there we had to carry all
Our tools and stores and swag,
With ninety pounds in weight, or more—
It was a fearful drag.
O'er rocks so steep, and snow knee-deep,
And Bauera's clinging bush,
We ploughed all day our weary way
On the Adams River Rush.

Next, to cross that awful mount
Known as the Mighty Thumbs,
Which stopped some of the diggers
And played havoc with the chums.
We toiled right up, aye, up and up
Till bones seemed they would crush
And we cursed the day we'd started on
The Adams River Rush.

The view upon that mountain top
Was such a splendid sight,
With the valley stretched out far below
And the trees all gleaming white.
It cheered our hearts to see that camp,
For we knew with our last push
We'd entered on the last stage of
The Adams River Rush.

We sat that night before the fire
Of a friendly diggers' camp,
And talked of the rushes in the West—
The tracks we used to tramp,
And the hardships we'd suffered
In that far-famed mulga bush,
But there's nothing there can quite compare
With the Adams River Rush.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net