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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
With creaking wheels and jangling chains,
The carrier travels onward,
Now steering north o’er shadowless plains,
Now slowly trending sunward;
Where little creeks, though tiny streaks,
Incline him to be wary,
And roley-polies roll for weeks
Across the open prairie.
When night has settled on the track,
A score of bells are sounding,
The burning pinewood ‘gins to crack,
And euroes off go bounding;
For duty’s sake, and thirst to slake,
He draws a sparkling flagon;
Whilst she has scanty beds to make
Atop and ‘neath the waggon.
Around the camp-fire dull and dim,
The meal anon’s partaken,
Whilst sweet mosquitoes pester him,
And choice invectives waken;
The carrier sighs as baby cries,
And says it’s so bewild’rin’,
He cannot smoke, as “missus” tries
To put to sleep the children.
The morning breaks, and in her train,
Come flies in countless millions,
That e’er pursue the hapless swain,
And round him dance cotillions;
He harks for knells of distant bells,
But hears a tinkle never,
For then that pest’lent army swells,
And buzzes more than ever.
Far distant hies a sturdy son,
Or p’rhaps a little daughter;
Whence wild plain turkeys rise anon,
And emus race for water.
At first quite near the nags appear,
But miles are travelled over
Before the tinkling bells sound clear,
That usher in the drover.
The carrier puts the harness on,
With Tom, his little ally;
Whilst Nellie milks the goats upon
The grass behind the galley.
With breakfast braced, the wife was placed
Atop with baby Willy,
The teamster’s cob with Tom is graced,
And Nelly ‘strides the filly.
The horses spare, and nanny-goats,
And bearded billies follow;
A gay array in shaggy coats,
They gambol down the hollow,
A tramping Jack with swag aback,
Requests a “smoke” on meeting;
A shearer, blessed with horse and pack,
Goes by with friendly greeting.
In seasons dry, when water’s scarce,
The earth with fissures riven,
Each eve for miles o’er herbage sparse
The horses must be driven;
But in the chinks the waggon sinks
Deep down in rainy weather,
And ‘sunder fly the weakened links
When horses pull together.
Day after day he meanders on,
With sundry stores and rations,
Returning, when the goal is won,
With wool from Western stations;
And then, maybe, his familee
Will taste the sweets of dwelling
Hard by Wilcannia town a wee,
Whilst weary nags are spelling.
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