Hellfire & Reuben Rose

A true tale of Moonta's early Methodist Church, at East Moonta South.

 

A hundred and thirty years has passed

Since Reuben strode our turf,

A Hell-fire Methodist Preacher

Cursing souls with every breath,

He claimed an exclusive license, sanctioned

By our gracious Lord,

To dispense both sulphur and brimstone

To the sinners of the world.

 

At Moonta, in the mining days,

When copper ruled as king,

A fluctuation in the price

Soon ruined everything.

Families left in droves; for jobs

Were harder then to find,

The congregations withered,

They were the few that stayed behind.

 

There wasn't enough to pay the fund

To keep their minister,

So he took off to Castlemaine

To save Victoria,

And when the Primitive Methodists

Declined to send another,

All Hell broke loose at the altar then,

Set brother against brother.

 

Enraged at the Executive

For showing them such contempt,

Half of the congregation said:

'We'll fix their argument!

We'll just secede from the Primitives

And run our own affairs.'

But Reuben Rose was a Primitive,

Who had his own ideas.

 

'Who owns the Church,' he sagely said,

'The age-old Primitives!'

'Not so,' declared the rebels, then,

'We paid for it with our tithes!'

But neither side would give an inch,

They claimed it, theirs alone,

Two armies of the Lord lined up

To seize the good lord's throne.

 

And so it was that, Sunday noon,

The rebels got there first,

They sang a lot of Sankey's hymns

To scorn the Primitive's verse,

They raised their voices mightily

And damn near raised the roof,

The Lord was on their side, they said

To the others, in reproof.

 

The Primitives stood there at the back,

And thought to rush the font,

A thrust along the centre aisle

A rush around the flank,

But Reuben Rose stood still and grim

His eyes as black as sin,

The veins along his forehead popped

Like corn in the summertime.

 

He waited 'til the evening prayer

And reached the altar first,

Secured it for the Primitive's

Against a greater force.

The earth seemed then to open up

To fill men's eyes and bones

With the stink of the smell of sulphur

And a tisane of old brimstone.

 

The rebels seized the chapel gate,

Locked it against the foe,

The Primitives went around the side,

Took an iron bar to the door,

Reuben Rose picked up a stone,

And held it up on high,

Then burst the lock on the chapel door,

Left the rebels high and dry.

 

The people from the mine soon heard

The threats no Lord forgives,

Then marched up there in a body to

Eject the Primitives,

'The battle's not yet over,'

Reuben Rose was heard to shout,

'You may be one with the devil,

But you never will lock us out!'

 

It came to Bloody Monday, when

The Primitives took hold,

Assaulted the chapel building

In the morning, gained control.

But soon retaliation was

The order of the day,

The rebels beat the victors off,

The rebels soon held sway.

 

They nailed up the windows and

They boarded up the doors,

They made a mighty fortress of

The chapel of the Lord,

And so in pure frustration, when

The Primitives saw black,

They marched to the one time minister,

Demanded his furniture back.

 

A crowd of angry women soon,

They marched there, hobble-hob,

They'd had their fill of Primitives,

And Reuben Rose's mob,

Each woman carried the sweeping broom

That lay about her house,

To sweep the Primitive Methodists

Away from East Moonta South.

 

The seeds of time have swallowed

Reuben Rose, and all his clan,

The church, it lies in rubble,

All in one with the works of man.

But if you listen carefully,

Right next to the pile of lime,

You'll hear the veins of his forehead,

Pop like corn in the summertime.

 

(And somewhere up in heaven

By the side of the Pearly Gates,

The Primitives are waiting, 

Over a hundred years too late.

The rebels are inside, cosy, while

Old Reuben is heard to shout:

'You may be one with the devil,

But you never will lock us out!)

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

The most wonderful thing about a poem like this is that, not only is it engaging for the reader, it teaches history to boot. It sparks the desire in the reader to want to know more. It's because of wonderful writing like this that history will never die.

I feel like I'm in a mountain digging for gold; and everytime I dig, one of your poems finds its way into my hands.

Thank you for making me rich.

Linda Marie Van Tassell

[JC]

damn! great read, important, historical, reading it my head i (for some reason) could hear nick cave singing this, must be that aussie style.

[Norma J. Jessee]

This type church is still alive and doing well in the Appalacian hills. Only here the are called Holliness, Holy Rollers Church of the living God etc. Once when I was young I remember Mama taking us to the church and there was a padlock on the door.Being young I failed to know the reason why it had been put there But I remember the preacher yelling," They can't keep us out. This is God's House, And he shall open these doors wide for us. However in the end it was the preacher who took a sledge hammer and busted the padlock off the door.
Religion is a strange thing, It not only can turn ungodly men into saints, but it can turn Saints into Devils.

David, you have given us a most enjoyable adventure in which you have combined , humor, action, historical fact, and treachery making this a memorable story . Splendid job.

[Wildfleour]

You never fail to entertain, but this time I also learned something too.

[Damian Alan Gray]

Historically hypocritical, the irony of religion never ceases to amaze me. I really appreciate the way you tell a story with your poetry, David. It's something we rarely see anymore. Most modern poets are all about expressing emotion, but they get lost amidst their own feelings and forget that the reader is searching for story behind the words.

[bailish]

If this is a true story as you said, then this is truly an ironic twist: fighting over control of a church building because of the message preached.

The rhythm of this peace adds to the entertainment value of it. Thanks a lot!