THE CROSSING OF ALEXANDER PEARCE

        No man can tell what he will do

        when driven by hunger – Alexander Pearce

red raw my eyes    smarting    Kings River a scummy tannin

fetched up on this shoulder of sandy brush

a fish gutted    yellow jacket

could lie here till oblivion

sluiced by the wash    Lethewards to Monaghan

fatigued dreadful   scars lashed sore    whats the odds

faculties scarce keep in motion

ulcers off them bloody briars    cross-wise thickets

this was no slant    the ticker fails me

                     all ive got in this godforsook world is a bit o Cox    in my pocket

                that johnny newcome what pressed me to bolt upon the cross
           his fam    we bolted into the woods from Logans sawpit gang
       mynabs was working in irons    which Cox knocked off with his axe

got mittens n burnt rag for tinder and flour for skilly                                 
      we kep low in shrubby parts till we struck the beach
           three days out we intimidated at each other    fly cove
                 he crossed me  Cox    gammoned me over    gully couldnt swim
                      n i durst not pass them mountains again

how im weary sick o grass n nettle tops    mess wont rest on my stomach

not sick o boiled heart n liver but the notion

even the thick part of arms    delicious when youre nearly starved

i was obliged to take the axe to that coxcomb

him being the stronger    incorrigible crawler

three blows to the joskins noddle

n still he cries for mercys sake come back

n put me out of my misery    aye  that i did

n dealt his nabs one almighty mortal bruise

                                    i meant to keep the coast road round to Port Dalyrimple

no more a sevener  bond  but a clean potato  free

some dart    now a heavy burthen weighs like an iron collar

Greenhill watching me so narrowly    gripping the axe

fragments of flesh strung up on boughs    severed hands flapping

Traviss venomed black foot swelling like fly-blown pork

i nearly topped myself with a leather strap    then ate it

if we hadnt bled flogger Dalton he could scourge me senseless

always a battler  me    now im ready to cop it    n willing

since ive crossed t other side im not game no more    down pin
        ive took a purging    lifes road was but indifferent travelling
                beaks of swell street tipped me the short straw aright
                      needs rest awhiles    swim back    give myself up to the logs
                               kindle a signal fire for a pilots jolly boat
                      put on Coxs dry slops    traps sure to bait me with snowdropping
               i stood the hazard without no angel of mercy
       demon  my oath    a lifer in lags land
doomed to scrag

                                          Michael Small             February3-March 30, 2003

            published LiNQ, vol. 30, no. 2, James Cook University, Queensland