The Old Prospector's Reverie (1929)
On the ridges lone have my camp fires burned,On starlit nights, 'neath tropic skies,
And by winding tracks has my pack horse turned,
To the spot where the old camp lies. There is goid, I know, in the hills around,
Gold in the wash of that crystal stream,
And I've turned my luck on the untried ground,
And 'tis ever of gold that I dream. I've fossicked around by the Coen way,
And in the Batavia's gravel and sand,
I've camped and toiled for many a day,
'Way up in the "Dead Man's Secret" land. And I'll strike it rich some day I know,
I'll see the gold in the white quartz shine,
And from worked-out claims will the miners go,
For all will hear of the "Lone Hands" Mine. By the lonely creek where my bark hut stands,
To the purple hills where the jungle lies,
The men will flock from the many lands,
And a mining town in a week shall rise. And I'll hear in the tents and huts once more,
The old songs sang with a glad refrain.
And the yarns they'll tell at the Diggings Store-
'Twill be an El Dorado once again. Then companies come and the old times die,
Like the good old times we knew,
And the goldfield's mail on the rails sweeps by,
Where once the pack teams struggled through. And the town will grow with lust and greed,
And lives will be bought and sold,
No more to help the man in need,
When the world is mad for gold. And I'll hear the roar of the trains pass by,
And the stampers that crush the stone,
Men work the shafts on the ridges high,
And Chinese hordes in the gullies lone. But soon I'll tire of the crowds and strife,
And the companies' stampers ceaseless roar,
And I'd long for the good old roving life,
Till I tried my luck for the gold once more. Notes From the NSW Newspaper The Scone Advocate 5 Jul 1929 p. 4.