SOUVENIR-CHARTERS TOWERS, 1872 TO JULY, 1950
In Remembrance- The World
Dedicated to the 75th Anniversary Celebrations of the Finding of the
Gold at Charters Towers.
We remember Charters Towers,
And "The Hill" that stands behind;
And towns like little London
Go completely out of mind:
"The World" was found in "72,
By the lure of shining gold:
Those pioneers are lost to view,
But, they live in memory -Bold.
We'll ne'er forget the story,
How "The World", our town was found;
When the little nigger Mossman,
Picked those nuggets from the ground;
He went to find the straying nags,
And tracked them to the mountain side,
And found the Gold in sugar-bags;
Then, back to camp, did quickly ride.
"By crieky Boss, him plurry big,
'1m stickem up, right up on top:
No dolly pot: No plurry dig";
As back they rode to see the cop;
Dame Fortune smiled a smile that day,
And strong men came from far away,
And found pure Gold on many a plot.
The clock ticked on, a city grew.
For far and wide the news had spread;
A Butcher came,-a Baker too;
The Lust for Gold: Man must be fed;
But Man is mortal, and moves on,
He goes the way of all the earth:
In spite of all the Gold he's won,
He starts to die, the day of birth.
But while we're here, we'll ne'er
forget: Men know "The World," the whole world
And why "The World"? the query yet.
'Tis where the sky doth meet the
ground. There's just "One World" to those who know. The world is big
-"ours" bigger still:
The outside world's a passing show,
To see "our World" from Towers Hill.
We remember Sydney' Arbour,
And have walked the grand new bridge;
But, it isn't half so fine and nice,
As a walk down Ruby Ridge;
Yes, they boom their Sydney 'Arbour,
And the beauty spots to see;
But take me to the Burdekin,
And make some billy-tea.
They talk of the Blue Mountains,
And boom them with delight;
Did you ever see old Towers Hill,
On a quiet starlight night?
Or Jimmy Rules Hill at daybreak fair?
And think with pride of the old Red
Nob. And Leysions mount in the background there The earth's real best,
are but a blob,
We remember too, the Carrolls, The
Egans and the Braggs. And yes; we often call to mind; Dear old Annie
'Tis said at certain seasons that She
dressed herself in rag;
Her matted hair, a dog, a cat, Outdid
Poor Annie spat out venom,
When a man she chanced to see;
Through man she lost her reason, And her love went out to sea.
And "Flour-bag": Good honest John,
Delighted in his looks,
And lived a wise old bachelor,
For women were all crooks.
We remember the old Broughton, And
the places we have been;
We were ne'er without a Rainbow, And
we always had a Queen. Suppose you've heard of Clara Creek, And the
"Merry Monarch" near; We had our own Great Briton,
And the Port -Millchester dear.
Full well we all remember,
On a busy Saturday night.
With our sweeties, all so lovely,
Dressed in pink, and blue, and white And Brisbane boasts her beauty,
But like "Four X" it's all bosh; We'll stick to our sweet dearies, And
-John Curtis -for a squash.
It's 3-score 15-years this year,
Since "The World" made all the map:
When the little nigger Mossman, Found "The Gold"- up at the Gap. We're
going back' to celebrate,
And commemorate "The Find",
To the town that had a "Golden Gate",
And Providence designed.
We remember when we packed our
trunks, And left the old home-town;
And the monument on Towers Hill,
Which now is fallen down;
And soon, we're going back, back
home. To the town, of Gold and Love.
There 'aint none to compare it,
But the Home that's up above.
-J. COWARD, Author,