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Poems From The Lyons Den
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Before The Bores Were Down
 
T’was early nineteen hundred, in Queenslands great outback.
Five hundred head of bullocks, came down the Birdsville Track.
Jack Clarke, the great old drover, who cracked the stockman’s whip
drove that mob of bullocks, on the now ill-fated trip.
Employed by “Elder Smith” and Co to move the cattle down,
where an Agent for Sid Kidman would be at Birdsville town.
But a letter down at Birdsville and a message it did bare,
was “move to Andrewilla water hole” and the agent will be there.

When he reached the Diamantina, along the Birdsville Track,
he stopped beside the water hole and removed his horses packs.
He waited for the agent, who still could not be found.
So he made a quick decision, to move on further down.
Before he left “Andrewilla” to head upon his way,
the fee for border duties, a thousand pounds to pay.
No authority had been given to pay that kind of “dough”
so he offered up an order on Elder Smith and Co.

Jack continued droving, with little sign of strife
till bad feed caused the poisoning and took one bullocks life.
The death of that one bullock, and twenty odd cut out,
things now started looking grim in the hard times of the drought.
A message sent by Kidman, stating he would not agree,
to accept the mob of bullocks unless delivered to “Marree”.
In view of drought conditions, and heat along the “track”,
to travel South was madness but useless to turn back.

The bullocks must have water or else they all may die,
so Jack dispatched a man ahead to discover “Round Hole” dry.
They moved on to “Potatotin”, to a brackish water bed.
Then prepared themselves and bullocks, for the gruelling trip ahead.
Delayed by a blinding dust storm made things look rather bleak,
with still one hundred miles or more to get to Cooper Creek.
Moving out at midnight, to avoid the suns hot ray
they came in sight of “Mulka” by nine o’clock next day.

Twenty miles north of “The Cooper” the bullocks were walking free,
when a cloud appeared before them, as far as the eye could see.
The pace of the bullocks then quickened, some even started to run.
The drovers could sense there’d be trouble and managed to steady each one.
Deciding to make camp for breakfast, and spell until darkness of night,
planning to be at “The Cooper”and water again at first light.
The cloud that was now fast approaching, wasn’t rain as predicted to Jack,
it was dust from the parched, arid country blown on to the drought stricken track.

The dust hit hard on the bullocks, and all who were trying to spell,
so they turned their backs into the dust storm and huddled together as well.
Visibility now, had long vanished it was more like a dark starless night,
not even the hands on their watches, were seen without striking a light.
No break in the dust still at midday and prospects not looking real good.
The drovers then hobbled the horses and dropped all the packs where they stood.
Some were never recovered, they stayed buried out in the sand,
and the size of the mob getting smaller, as the death rate began to expand.

When the dust storm subsided a little, the sun had already gone down,
Clarke and his men checked the bullocks and many lay dead on the ground.
Seventy, at least, had been smothered, others surviving but just,
and the drovers now weary and hungry faced the rest of the mob to the dust.
They continued the push to the Cooper and the dust storm became even worse,
the bullocks now red eyed and restless were frightened and tried to disperse
Some got away in the panic, others dropped off on the way.
The extent of the losses unnoticed until later the following day.

At sunrise the dust storm had broken, they now had to battle the heat.
Jack and his men kept on moving and hoped that they wouldn’t be beat.
Arriving at last by The Cooper, with less than a third of the mob,
They rested and watered the bullocks, before getting on with the job.
Jack went in search for some bullocks, and strays he eventually found.
Most of them lost and half blinded and all with their heads hanging down.
He continued to search for the others and only seen thirty more head.
They were found in a pool of salt water Twenty-eight of thirty were dead.

Jack and his men left the Cooper, to finish the ill-fated job.
Just seventy two head of bullocks were all that was left of the mob.
Sid Kidman refused to accept them, the owner lost four thousand pound
and a thousand still owing to Customs, that was pledged whilst bringing them down.
Concern was seen in the drover, he knew the fee must be paid
and the townsfolk all rallied together, preparing to come to his aid.
The payment was made without question, the owner came good with the dough
and Jack and his men were thankful, to Elder Smith and Co.

The fate of Jack Clarke’s journey, and the problems droughts can cause,
The South Australian Government began to sink some bores.
Today along “The dry stage”, in Australia’s great outback,
there’s bores of flowing water along The Birdsville Track.



Copyright © M C Lyons


Verse written by M.C.LYONS 8th August 1989 from a story by
John Fullerton . Australian Rodeo Country Music June 1983








 

    

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2010 Malcolm C Lyons. All Rights Reserved.