-
- With food, tents, and
clothing upon their backs,
- All more or less
hidden in bulging rucsacs,
- Six weird looking
people one morning set out -
- Ignoring the smiles of
the folk round about -
- Set out on the road to
Audley.
-
- Then charged down the
hill a big charabanc
- At a perilous pace
past the tramping throng,
- Whilst a boy to the
back very frantically clung,
- And, oh, how he
bounced, and he clutched, and he swung,
- Ah down the long road
to Audley!
-
- Though the size of
their packs made the other folk stare,
- The Gypsies strode off
with a carefree air,
- And priests, youths,
and families easily passed,
- Arriving there first
though they'd started off last
- A tramping the road to
Audley.
-
- Across the stone
causeway, near Carrington Drive,
- Some country-folk met
them and scarce could survive
- The sight of those
Gypsies so weird and so glad -
- Who must really be mad
--and quite probably bad -
- Whom they met on the
road to Audley.
-
- Then into the bush the
six disappeared
- But were heard of next
day when the weather had cleared
- From a couple who'd
stood up all night in the rain,
- Then decided to go
back to Sydney again,
- Following the road to
Audley.
-
- At Curracurrang near
the Smuggler's cave
- We next see the
Gypsies so strong and so brave,
- Where they picked up a
tortuous cattle track,
- And tramped on along 'neath
a driving cloud wrack,
- Far from the road to
Audley.
-
- At lunchtime that day
beside a stream
- They suddenly rose
with one loud scream;
- While the black snake
turned with a wriggly squirm
- And went off full
speed, like a timid worm,
- For the faraway road
to Audley.
-
- In the end they packed
up their fat rucsacs again,
- To return to drab work
amidst thousands of men!
- Ah, woe is me! Alas!
and Alack!
- Why need we ever again
go back,
- Back by the road to
Audley?
-
- At the top of the hill
the sextet met
- Some wowsers strange
who're staring yet,
- If they haven't all
died of the shock they got,
- When they sighted that
singing, tramping lot,
- Some miles from the
road to Audley.
-
- Off porridge and fish
in the midst of a stream
- Those Gypsies dined on
a sand-bar cream,
- Whilst the motorists
past them chugged and raced
- (By their dust and
noise all too easily traced)
- Along the road to
Audley.
-
- Up a last long hill
and around a bend
- They suddenly came to
the journey's end,
- When the train roared
up on its way to town;
- And their hearts sank
heavily down and down
- "Goodbye, Oh Road
to Audley!"
-
- Dorothy Lawry
- October 1921
- .
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-
- Oh, we pitched the
tent in darkness by some gum-trees on the plain.
- We were wakened in the
morning by the magpies, and the rain.
- The rain was sharply
splashing on the ground all round our bed,
- While the magpies held
a concert in the gum-trees overhead,
- So we rose and rolled
our bedding ere the flood came in the tent,
- Then we donned our
capes and rucksacks, and along the mad we went...
- Splashing through the
puddles, plodding through the rain;
- Wondering at the
spirit that had dawn us from the train!
- For the train was
going homewards to the city by the sea,
- Where the people live
in comfort not to speak of luxury,
- But we left the train
at midnight at a village dark, unknown,
- Where the folk were
jazzing madly to a blaring saxophone;
- And we tramped along
the high road o'er bleak and treeless plain,
- While the helpful moon
was smothered by black clouds that threatened rain...
- Listening to the frogs
rejoicing, sniffing the damp breeze,
- Wondering would rain
come ere we found some sheltering trees...
- At length a clump of
gums were sighted, and to them gladly went
- And, sheltered by
their stalwart trunks, we ate; then pitched our tent
- The rain next morning
roused us with its soggy, swampy splash,
- And we paddled through
the mud and slush without our former dash;
- While the rain
streamed on unceasing, and the road went on and on;
- And 'Why do we come
camping?" was the constant cry of Con -
- Wiping the rain from
her glasses, plodding along through the mud,
- Small wonder if Contie
was feeling adventure was lost in the flood!
- But at midday a breeze
came blowing, driving the clouds away,
- And turning that
sodden morning to a joyous sparkling day.
- Flocks of parrots
arose like bubbles; fleecy clouds were froth overhead;
- All the air was rarest
wine while we went where the roadway led
- Over hill and down
dale, through field and bush, we lightly swung along,
- While Contie's
plaintive morning cry became a lilted song...
- "Why do we come
camping? How the clouds race by!
- Why do we come
camping? Let the romping breeze say why!"
-
- Dorothy
Lawry
- 1926
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