Classic Poem

I might have raved in verse and prose
The wrongs of one Bushwoman dead,
To shame the smug, smug smiles of those
Who sit in peace where tape is red;
I might have sung a song of pride
For things their kind shall never know —
I only see a Bush girl ride
Through rugged ranges long ago.

I might have worn a band of crape;
But this is foreign to our breed.
(The face and crape we wear at home
Are very real things indeed.)
I might have said — well, anything,
Of things that were and things that are.
I only hear a Bush girl sing
To diggers from the lands afar.

I might have done what I shall do
And had done in the days gone by.
So hold me true who held me true,
And let them lie who love to lie.
I yet may be what I have been —
And was before the fools could see —
A sober gentleman, and clean,
For my Girl-Mother's memory.