Classic Poem

By Lawson's Hill, near Mudgee,
On old Eurunderee —
The place they called " New Pipeclay " ,
Where the diggers used to be —
On a dreary old selection,
When times were dry and thin,
In a slab-and-shingle kitchen
There stood a flour bin.

'Twas " ploorer " with the cattle,
'Twas rust or smut in wheat,
'Twas blight in eyes and orchards,
And coarse salt-beef to eat.
O how our mothers struggled
Till eyes and brains were dull —
O how our fathers slaved and toiled
To keep those flour bins full!

We've been in many countries,
We've sailed on many seas;
We've travelled in the steerage
And lived on land at ease.
We've seen the world together
Through laughter and through tears —
And not been far from baker's bread
These five and thirty years.

The flats are green as ever,
The creeks go rippling through;
The Mudgee Hills are showing
Their deepest shades of blue;
Those mountains in the distance
That ever held a charm
Are fairer than a picture
As seen from Cox's farm.

On a German farm by Mudgee
That took long years to win,
On the wide bricked back verandah
There stands a flour bin;
And the dear old German lady —
Though bakers' carts run out —
Still keeps a " fifty " in it
Against a time of drought.

It was my father made it,
It stands as good as new,
And of the others like it
There still remain a few.
God grant, when drought shall strike us,
The young will " take a pull " ,
And the old folk find their strength anew
To keep those flour bins full.