THE WHARE OF GREY BAUPO.

Otago Witness, Issue 2355, 13 April 1899, Page 58

THE WHARE OF GREY BAUPO.

Far away out back in the Tanges wild, "Where the ka-ka climbs the trees, And the silvery note of the bellbird floats On the wings of the scented breezeAway out there in a grassy patch Is a whare of grey raupo, "With the rafters bare, devoid of thatch, And the daylight streaming through On to the slabs of the rough-laid floor, Whero ancient relics remain, An old pick head and a pannikin red "With rust from the wind and rain. There's a tale of the past lmg'ring out thers That I can repeat by heart — A tale in praiae of the roaring days That then of our lives were part, "When the world was mad and wo were glacf, And " swags " was the word, and tramp — O that was the time and the clays sublime For the diggers' deserted camp. That i>ick belonged to "Whalen, who fought In the riot 3at Ballarat ; He was foremost man in the angry van At the clearance of Lambiug Flat. " The Lambing Flat Roll tJp," 'twas called,And thousands joined in the shout Which struck such fear to the Chinamen's hearts That they fled like a vermin rout. How often they told at the camp fire thers Iv that whare of grey raupo Old yarnu queer, with their memories dear. Of deeds that they used to do — Deeds by river, and ford, and flood, . By shaft, and tunnel, and creek, Performed by men who ware fossicking then "Ench day in each fleeting week, ' When they were mad and the world was glad. And " swags " -wrs the word, 'and tramp. In the good old time, tuid the days sublime. For the diggers' deserted camp. How often I, dreaming, wander there. To that whare of grey raupo, "With its tumbje-clown look, its rafters bare. And the daylight streaming through On to the musty, mouldy floor, Disclosing the relics old, The pannikin red and the old pick head Which fought in the fight for gold. The days go on and the nights go on, And the ko-ka climbs the trees, And the sweet, clear note of the bellbird floats On the wings of the scented breeze. The red suns rise and the red suns set, And the years aie grinding away, While my heart goes back with a fond regret i To the joys of a former day, > When friendship's hand was the seal and band That heated our hopes anew, Away out there in the ranges wild, in A wharo of grey raupo, iVhen the world was mad and we were glad,» And " swags " was the word, and tramp, 0 fhat was the time, and the days sublime, For the diggers' deserted camp. Eut the fierce big bites of Old Time's mouth A"ro eroding the happy dream, And soon the v/hare of giey raupi' ■ Will float away in the stream That drifts for ever across the hills to Somewhere up in the skies, Where, marching slow, all things must go. And the soul and the spirit flies. 'Tis quiet out there in the ranges now, The bustle and clamorous roar Of tne anxious crush as they onward rusk Is heard in the bush no more. The heat of the battle has died away, And a hush has .followed the noise Of the rollicking lays and the ronring days And the jovial bushman's joys. Most of the feet are stilled for aye who Joined in the headlong tramp, In the good olc 1 time and the days sublimd .. Of the diggers' deserted camp. A bleached clay heap and a windlass whita Is close to the whare side, And a black old shaft as black as night Is gaping with great jaws wide. Methinks I can hoar the dead men's picks Clinking away below, Or the shovel's shrill grate in the wash and slateAs the lights go to and fro. Then the dead, dull grind of the windlass groans, Like a _poul in its last despair, . And the voices »re muffled, and queer, and strange Of the men who are working there. Perchance it is only the water drop that falls With a splash I hear, As it trickles out through the slimy slabs, like The bitterest heart-drawn tear. Whatever it is it heats my heart, and I dream, And I dream anew 01 the cold black shaft and the windlass white And the wharo of grey raupo. And I long for the days when the world was free, And " swags " was the word, and tramp, O that was the time, and the- days sublime. For the diggers' deserted camp. —THOMAS M'MAHON". Wellington, March 1899.