(header photographs by Harry Waite 1912-2011)

A Rhyme re a Road

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

From Sing With the Wind