This is a great poem by John Manifold about the Stringybark Creek incident involving Ned Kelly & the Kelly Gang.
STRINGYBARK CREEK
by John Manifold
Late one October afternoon
When rain was in the sky,
A horseman shouting witless words
Came belting madly by.
Straight for Benalla Town he rode
And shouted as he came;
But no one recognized the horse
Or knew the rider’s name.
Silence came down behind his back;
On countless cocky farms
The people watched the Wombat Hills
Not moving eyes or arms.
None knew, and not for days we knew,
That in the hour he passed
Lonnigan died, and Kelly’s hands
Were dipped in blood at last.
And Kennedy was yet to die,
And McIntyre in flight
Half –crazed upon a crazy horse
Would scour the range all night.
But silence fell on all the farms
As down the road they flew –
The horse that no one recognized,
The man that no one knew.
