Other Times

This poem was among my mother's papers so strictly speaking it doesn't belong in this blog but I would hate it to be lost. It was written by a mate about my maternal grandfather James Hughes Hardy. My understanding is that these men fossicked together for gold around Mount Morgan. I am ashamed that I don't know or remember much of the family history. I do recall Aunty Ag (Agnes Allen, my Mum's eldest sister) talking about arriving in Mackay. Her father James Hughes Hardy travelled  overland. The train apparently terminated at St Lawrence. His goods and chattels were then loaded on a bullock dray and taken to Mackay, a journey of about three weeks. At the same time, his wife, Annie Hardy (nee Roderick) travelled by boat with her young children Catherine Agnes (who was always known as Agnes), James Hoban Hardy and perhaps Monica. Mum, Enid Therese, was born in Mackay in 1920 so we are looking back almost a hundred years. There was no harbour and no wharf at that time. Aunty Ag told me about being swung across from the boat in a huge basket on a rope attached to the Leighhardt Tree. I believe this was near where the Forgan Smith bridge now stands and may have been part of the grounds of Michelmore's.  (However I don't trust my memory and will send this to some family members who may know more. So if you are interested, please check back in a few weeks - or give me your own feedback if  you can help fill out the story.)

OTHER DAYS

I’m sitting by the old camp fire,

The night is still and bleak

Except for dingoes howling

Away across the creek.

My mate is writing letters

To his loved ones far away,

Telling them of yellow gold

We hope to find some day.

But I am thinking of the past,

The good old days that flew

And of a life-long comrade

With heart so staunch and true.

When we were young and active

And youth was on our side,

The bush was our real glory

And horses our great pride.

Wild country was a home to us,

We loved its fragrant smell,

And we climbed o’er lofty mountains

In the land we loved so well.

We looked for gold together

On many alluvial sheds

And camped on lonely ranges

With our saddles ‘neath our heads.

To me he was a dinkum pal.

When work was hard to get

He used to say, “Well, never mind,

You’ll sure strike something yet.”

Through all the years I knew him,

I never saw him wild.

He somehow had a way with him,

At troubles he just smiled.

But since God took him from us,

My eyes got sort of dim

For though I’ve still got many friends,

I can’t forget old Jim.

His faithful wife and family

For him need have no fears,

For now he’s safe in heaven

Where there’s no pain or tears.

And sometimes now I breathe a prayer

That God may safely lead them

Straight from earth to Heaven’s gate

With old Jim there to greet them.

And as for me, I hope to be

Among that happy party,

Telling tales of bygone days

With my old mate, Jim Hardy.

OLD PAL