THE PIONEERS.

Greymouth Evening Star, 19 July 1918, Page 7

THE PIONEERS.

(By William Duffy, a Pioneer). a (Redtcd hy Mat Willing, at Pioneers gathering). I Oil, the Old West Coasters were never boasters, 3 They had bone and muscle, and the brain to plan. The Coast held attraction for men of action, An'd the Celt and Saxon were in the van. I We were of all nations and .occupation, Fenians and Masons, come the gold to win; Greeks and Germans, Frenchmen, Hibernians’, And big Far Downers, mostly Orangemen. The rivers we waded and our tracks we graded Ere daylight faded deep in the bush, Puffing and blowing but onward going For the smoko was showing the Greenstone Rush. Footsore and jaded the goal we made it, And the claims we raided the gold to view. There it was shining no man was whining But all were pining for prospects new. All young and able but somewhat unstable, To the latest Rush we were sure to go, Bo it true or fable, whether white or sable. We were up and, off at the word, Rush 0. But the gold was here, boys, to the surface near, boys. Beaches, gullies, terrace and creek. Oh, you could not miss it, but now where is it? There’s lots in Westland go for it to seek. Its in your arms; its in the farms! See the homes and barns the work of years. From Nature’s College we draw our knowledge And you're th c sons and daughters of those pioneers. On my brain it fires and my muse inspires, Till my heart tires its side to show. 1 love you, Westland, for you arc the best land In all New Zealand where cr e you go. Your lofty mountains, cascades and fountains. Your rapid rivers that madly flow. Your lakes, your glaciers, hot springs; now where is A place like Westland, I’d like to know. You’ll he yet made famous by some young genious That has heart and brain and thc gift to sec. Your valleys glowing and your rivers flowing, And your mountains showing all poetry. To thc old rhymers, my brother miners, The good old Timers, their growing few; There most all in Heaven and to the few still living, I’ll soon he bidding my last adieu. When comes the order to cross the border From the Great Recorder of good and crime, To the Heavenly Keeper, the great Saint Peter, That is growing sweeter »and more divine. I pass up my papers, and he says, “Bo Ja pers! Your from the Coast, and I hope you’re fine. How’s Tommy Seddon, Felix Campbell, Mick Hannan? I’m here and ready to welcome them in.” Here’s to Joe Ovimmond and thc old men and women,

nnu li«u tj uujiwt Now bare your bends to our mates that’s dead, Long may they live, boys, to memory. To our Parliament, and the man wo sent To represent the Const for years. To dear Westland and her mountains grand, And the brave old band, the Pioneers. Your glasses clink, to their memory drink, All our grievances sink is our heartfelt toast To her Jubilee and her prosperity, And three times three for the Dear West Coast.