Friday, January 30, 2009

Canowindra

Canowindra (pronounced Can-noun-dra, not the commonly used
Can-oh-win-dra) is an historic township located near Cowra in the
central west of New South Wales, Australia in Cabonne Shire.


Captured by Ben Hall and his gang - the story says, to show contempt for the cops & troopers. But let us imagine a bit more - let us imagine that the Hall Gang captured the town in an attempt to create the First Lachlan River Valley Soviet.









Late it was in the day, the bright sun
Setting off flies and floating soil
Spring Summer melting slide into one
Each other framing ceaseless toil.

Bold daring-doo this was the brashest
Dance ever sung in New South Wales
A cloud of horses to raise more dust
Blinding covering the sands of tails.

The one lone duck taken in the increase
Stampeding horses screaming voices
Not one hurt marched into jail the geese
Open a new world with our choices.

Benji strode jet a steed flame red eyes
Killed a half dozen mounts or more.
I would not have, with out me mud pies,
Believed, Flash Gilberto. Sure as sure.

Riding stride for matching stride always
Rode hard straight razor totin' Red Biddy
We have your town and we will for days
More are coming something like thirty

She rode back and forth, impatient
Stepped her mount, wild valiant colored
Chestnut wind burst with dust and urgent
She laughed not boasting - you're captured.

Our hero steadied his horse, sat tall
So he could well be seen. We will not hurt
One of you. We know you have naught to steal.
We have thought, It is time to invert.

My friends and I, under the milky way,
We cose for sleep, doze of a better
Break up all the things brought to the day.
An equal share, not all to the banker.

So I want 5 stout men with Jacky.
And men who are good on back with Toby.
Spread out! You know where there are tracks
Allow quiet raids of squatters bounty.

The rest will stay here and open
We will the telegraph office,
The bank and we will hunger dampen
With these few head we duffed joyous.

Start feast cooking. See here we are paying.
Red Biddy let fall a splash of money.
The sun light falling the coins, playing
Bush lives so tiring and dreary.

With a rushed assent the town's people
Set off to work preparing a feast
To out do any of the town's bridal
Parties - more food, more stout, deeds unleased

Consumed in the great fire the people made
All such documents destroyed - both here
And on the properties. We will lead
The squatters from morning to sundown

They still will only know one thought
Ownership, they will not give up the land.
Now falling into hard times we are taught
To move forward means to make the stand.

3 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

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Tomás Ó Conghalaigh said...

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rob kistner said...

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…rob

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