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