A Song of Old Carcoar

a true story

Back in the day of old Carcoar

They shot German Charley square in the jaw.

They raised their rifles with a clean and jerk.

That lad, John Vane and his mate, Micky Burke.

 

The two young men, (barely that in their years),

Raced west out of town. And so their careers

Took off with a bang. Plus a stroke of ill luck:

Charley’s still breathing face down in the muck…

 

He lay there bloody on the stable floor,

The burn of a bullet searing his jaw.

Yet he crawled to the wall and scratched two names:

One bad Micky Burke, and his mate John Vane.

 

Westward they stole on a loose bridled colt

For “Brave Ben Hall”  and to join his revolt.

‘Cross goldfields and mallee and dry creek runs

Fled the men with their courage and smouldering guns.

 

They pilfered from squatters, took what they pleased.

They slipped from the Coppers with casual ease.

Until Micky Burke and his mate, John Vane

Took a downward spiral on wild Dunn Plain.

 

Together with Hall (as part of his gang),

They chose old Keightley and sort to harangue

With rifles the gold from his care and keep.

They crept to his house and wrenched him from sleep.

 

But Keightley was hard, and not shy to shoot

Any damned fool that would try for the loot.

The Commissioner said: “God help the wretch!

He’ll die full of holes, or his neck will stretch!”

 

Grit in his teeth and a bulldog-ed gun,

He put the bushwhackers back on the run.

Though not before blasting one last shot

Which found Micky Burke and lodged in his gut.

 

They beat a retreat back into the bush.

They couldn’t withstand, when shove came to push...

Ben Hall and his gang, including John Vane,

Looked on at Mick Burke bleeding in pain.

 

His stomach was burst, he thought he was gone.

He took up his rifle and leaned upon

The low lying limb of a bloodgum tree,

And desperately shot point blank...

 

But, a tough young b*****d was Micky Burke:

Shot himself in the head, and it didn’t work -

His gut was busted, his brain shot to pulp…

Now which of his friends would step up and help?

Some say it was Hall who finished Burke off.

He saw the young man had suffered enough…

But I say it’s wrong, and it were John Vane

Who pitied his mate and ended his pain.

 

And that’s how he came to kneel at the feet

Of his due confessor, the Carcoar priest:

His mind it was mangled with madness plain.

With madness sank the lad, John Vane.

 

And let’s not forget the old stable hand

Upon whom Vane and Burke left their brand…

 

He carved their sign on the side of a wall,

Along with a curse on which would befall

Unspeakable guilt and harrowing pain:

“Cut down Micky Burke, and let live John Vane”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

There is a certain romanticism that is afforded the outlaws and bush rangers of once upon a time Australia. Perhaps it's an inevitability of any society wherein there exists divisions of justice. Many a story, poem, ballad, and hymn have been written in the spirit of surviving the stories and the legends of folk heroes, miscreants, scallywags, and plain old commoners, and most of the time those accounts are aggrandized or exaggerated. What I found engaging about this story is the extraordinary realism: that truth, if not stranger than, is undoubtedly much more interesting than fiction. I was taken so much with this account of 1863 that I felt compelled to write about it myself.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i'm with Corset...i love Westerns...grew up weaned on all of the old favorites as a kid...this was a journey back to my childhood...Lone Ranger, Rough Riders, Lawman, the Rebel and many others..."Paladin, Paladin where do you roam? Paladin, Paladin, far far from home"

this poem is like home for me..thank you, Charlie....well done.

[charlie]

Thanks jacob. I imagine the "frontiersmen" of united states and the "colonial boys" of Australia may have had a lot in common, in terms of lifestyle and (shall we say) readiness.
... something did occur to me in the writing of this piece: John Wayne spoken with a German accent would sound remarkably like John Vane. No?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and thank you for the inspiration...after reading and commenting on this piece, i wrote my "stirrups" piece. But then, that is what happens here.

jacob

[Wandering Minstrel]

a wonderful piece with deep and mind blowing imagery!

[Corset]

I love cowboy movies and such and this poem must have been a bugger to write, but you have done it justice. No easy feat to write a story and have it find structure, rhyme, cohesion. Very impressive work Charlie!

[charlie]

Thanks for saying so, Corset. You know: in one respect this story was easy to write, for it were simply a retelling of actual events. And those areas of the narrative where literary license was taken were plainly fun. By far the hardest thing was to get near to encapsulating the authenticity and rawness of the story, and to share with my readers the bewildered intrigue, that feeling of awe which the tragic experiences of these characters inspired in me. (I mean: how many people get shot in the mouth, like German Charley, or shoot themselves in the head and live, like Burke did. Or be forced to carry out a mercy killing on your friend, like Vane or Hall? Not too many). I'm not convinced that I quite captured the feeling and the tragedy in this write, but I did manage to do some other things with it, at least. Like the form, which although is not the perfect example of metered rhyme, does lend back to the bush ballad form of early Australia - the kind that remains synonymous with Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson, et al... (I'm beginning to ramble)
Thanks for the read, C.

[Corset]

my pleasure, I appreciate your in depth review on Animal house, Thank you so much for the wonderful helpful advice.

[Tree]

I felt the care that went into this. You are a craftsman, Charlie. I like when the conscientious poet sets out to due justice to a lost voice, or, a dying story. This is perhaps the greatest responsibility the mature poet has. Giving voice, to those who can no longer speak.

Excellent piece, Charlie.

[charlie]

Thank you, D. Paz. It took nearly four days to write this, and I still feel like it was rushed. But I'll try harder on the next one. Or I'll try less. I like the poems I write where I don't try to write them at all. Do you ever feel that way?

[Tree]

I like when that happens, Charlie. I've actually analyzed that from a creative standpoint. Going back, I and can only think of a handful of poems that flowed directly from my mind/heart to the pen and would never again need some sort of restructuring. Rare, indeed. If you are referring to the poem that just comes instantaneously, no prior planning, note taking or conceptualizing, yes I enjoy when that happens. All the different kinds a ways we birth poems, I've explored this many times in my poetry, too. It's a mysterious process....

let us keep scribbling, Charlie


Diego