ORIGINAL POETRY. TO JACK. by WILLIAM DEAN. Sydney, February, 1914.

Molong Express and Western District Advertiser NSW

7 March 1914

ORIGINAL POETRY.

 [TO JACK.]

It is not like it used to be,

- To me the place seems strange,

But should you ever go beyond

The steep Blue Mountain Range

Go Pinecliff way, and you will find

My old haunts in the West,

And you will meet my truest friends—

The oldest and the best.

And should you meet a farmer there,

Who knew me when a lad,

Just say you’ve come out West to see

The old home of your Dad.

And he is sure to take you in-

and talk, as old hands do

About the time we roamed those hills

and shot the kangaroo

You will not trace the first lone camp

By any pegs or poles,

For the land is growing wheat around

The old Gum Waterholes.

But you will see the humpy there,

With vines about the door,

And roof of thatch that sheltered me

For twenty years or more.

Bring back a few fine cobs of corn,

And bring a little wheat,

And when you join your city friends

Who know so well the street, ...

Tell them you've been at Melrose Farm,

And where the farm hands toil,

And show them what you brought away

As products of the soil.

It is not like it used to be,.

But you will like the place,

Which from my mind long roving years

And change cannot efface.

For you will see the sunburnt men,

Who fill the great flourmills,

When you have found my boyhood

haunts

Among the Western hills

WILLIAM DEAN.

Sydney, February, 1914