Get your own Free Home PageWe meet again on the river bank
Where we dwelt - it is ages ago -
And look in vain, thro’ the passing crowd
For faces we used to know.
On the other bank stood the old black chief
There urging his warriors on
To block us from landing, when swimming this stream
Now the last of those tribes has gone.
On yonder knoll those blacks used to camp
And fished in the river there
And the features of change since those days long past
And we look we see everywhere.
The giant gums have gone from the bend
Where ‘twas wood ‘tis an open plain
And down by the creek where the cattle camped
Waves a paddock of golden grain.
See high on the hill, where the town now stands
There we tumbled the kangaroo
When the brown horse tripped on the sharp slate rocks
And came down a cropper on you.
Look further afield - you can just see the range
Where we raced, bending sapling and bough
And of all who helped us to muster then
Oh! Where are those stockmen now ?
Are you and I the two who are left ?
How you pant as you climb this hill !
But I am one of the lean and tough
I’m at home in the saddle still.
See how lightly I spring to the stirrup yet !
See how strongly I hold the rein !
See that red fox from the heap of rocks !
I shall race through those hills once again !
And now we are down where the oak trees curved
Where we stretched in their shade at noon
While our horses grazed between the banks
Of the river and broad lagoon.
Here on the flat is the old racecourse
And this is the very track
Where you and I rode a catch-weight race
Now ‘tis seventy-five years to look back.
On this grassy spot stood the ferryman’s hut
Where dwelt Bob and his daughter fair
And yet in fancy I think I see
The sheen of her golden hair.
And the winning smile she gave as we passed
remember, no doubt, you can
For the rapture of love that is felt by the boy
Will be cherished through life by the man.
In the hollow here stood the old pound yard
And here from this spot I can see
Where all night long with frozen limbs
I clung to a branch of that tree.
Not a stick or a stone is left to show
The place where the old town stood
‘Twas at the close of a midwinter’s day
That the houses went down with the flood.
The rolling waters came rushing on
Till they leapt up that steep hillside
And flocks and herds went floating by
For the stream was a full mile wide.
Still the torrent roared and the water rose
In the fading evening light
As the houses went, a hundred down
And we drowned that day and night.
A strong man battled with efforts long
A dear one’s life to save
But all his efforts were only in vain
For both met a watery grave.
I heard a mother’s earnest prayer
Then a shriek ‘mid the waters wild
The stream rushed on, the woman sank
But, in death, she still clasped her child.
Most went down calm and resigned
There were cries for help from some
But cries for help were all in vain
For such help would never come.
With a torpid frame and frozen limbs
I clung to that swaying tree
Oh! How I watched for the dawn of day !
That night seemed eternity.
We have talked of the days of sunshine and youth
Of the time of sorrow and pain
To-day we have met on the river bank
And now we must part again.
The bell tolls out, the engine puffs
The sparks from the funnel fly
The wheels revolve, the train moves off
Farewell to old Gundagai.
It is unclear whether James wrote this poem. More likely he recalled it.
What time sate she on Tara’s throne
The happy Princess Gormly
Bright jewels sparkled on her zone
The happy Princess Gormly
But her fair seeming could not hide
The wayward will, the heart of pride
The wit still ready to deride
Of scornful Princess Gormly
The daughter of a kingly race
Was lovely Princess Gormly
And monarch’s bride - the first in place
Was noble Princess Gormly
The fairest hand she had, the skill
The lute to touch, the harp to thrill
Melting and moving mean at will
The peerless Princess Gormly
Nor was it courtly art to call
The splendid Princess Gormly
The first of minstrels in the hall
All-gifted Princess Gormly
Song flowed from out her snowy throat
As from the thrush, and every note
Taught men to sigh, and bards to dote
On lovely Princess Gormly
At last she fell from her great height
Unhappy Princess Gormly
Her Lord had perished in the fight
Unhappy Princess Gormly
And now she has no house or home
Destined from rath to rath to roam
Too proud to make amend or moan
Unhappy Princess Gormly
Irish history asserts that the first Gormly was a woman and was the mother of two kings.
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