Behind a rock on Eugowra Station
Gardiner’s gang lies in wait
From the goldfields, heading their way
A wealth of riches they contemplate.

Coloured shirts and scarves disguise them
Loaded guns are by their side
Twenty paces from the roadway
Where the gold-escort will ride.

Bullock teams, bound for the diggings
Are stopped to block the escort’s way
Now the coach must come much nearer
And become the robbers’ prey.

A cracking whip, the pound of hoof beats
Signal that the coach is near
It’s after four and dust clouds circle
Around the coach, as it appears.

Blast of gunfire, horses rearing
Windows shatter, a victim’s cries
Through the smoky haze of gunfire
The coach is plundered for its prize.

For many years this rock has been here
Witnessed sacred rites of old
Called Coonbong, it still possesses
The spirit of a warrior bold.

The desecration of such places
Sometimes an unconscious thing
How the rock viewed Gardiner’s doings
I must admit, I’m wondering.

And as I slowly walk this hillside
See the purple curse abounds
Search for clues to understanding –
A sense of place and ghostly sounds.

© Jim Low 2005

 


Read Jim’s article: Eugowra Rock Escort Robbery