Bush Verses

Swindlers Gap

There's a valley in the ranges, where the hills are always green,

With Cobungra River winding like a living thing between;

'Tis the wildest spot in Gippsland, and though missing from the map,

Yet it's known throughout Australia, far and wide, as Swindler's Gap.

It was early in the sixties, long before the diggers came,

Long before Detective Dungey blazed the track that bears his name,

That this hollow formed the centre in a tale of love and crime,

And a cattle stealer's daughter is the princess of my rhyme.

She was Andy Brady's daughter. He was known among the bands

As the prince of cattle stealers, and a king at faking brands;

And 'twas said of Andy Brady, from the centre to the sea,

There was not another living knew the bush as well as he.

But with all men's hands against him he could never rest in peace,

And was hunted like a dingo by civilians and police;

Save a band of lawless comrades, silent members in the game,

Who pricked their ears like healers, if you whispered Brady's name.

Though the social system banned him as an outcast, and exiled,

There was one who served him truly-twas his own and only child;

And her faithful, filial duty, in the face of flood and fire,

Leaves a haunting memory somehow that we cannot but admire.

She was bred on old Monaro, where the girls, for native grace,

'Mong their fair Australian sisters, take with ease the pride of place;

And among the mountain beauties, in the show ring or the ball,

The cattle stealer's daughter was the fairest of them all.

Now it chanced that Trooper Kelly had been sent to Cooma town,

With a Queensland native tracker, to hunt Andy Brady down;

And his sergeant's last instructions to the point were brief and few -

"May you capture Andy Brady, and his daughter Mary, too."

But the wily bushman's daughter was a student of disguise,

And had learnt in early childhood to provide against surprise;

And to her the trim built stranger on the shapely dappled grey,

Was an object of suspicion, and a likely bird of prey.

So she watched his movements closely, and discovered that a trap,

Had been laid to catch her father far away in Swindler's Gap;

And she made a vow to save him from a felon's fearful doom,

For the knowledge of his danger filled her heart and soul with gloom.

In the silent hour of midnight she rode down the bridle track,

Never dreaming for a moment she was shadowed by the black;

As the early morning sunbeams tipped the mountain peaks with gold,

She paused to reconnoitre, and her very blood ran cold.

She had laughed at mounted troopers, but her rosy cheeks went pale,

When she saw the native tracker like a bloodhound on her trail;

And she urged the pony onward, through the wild and tangled brush-

With his evil shadow following like a spirit of the bush,

When she reached the Snowy River, the brave heart within her sank,

For the swollen mountain waters rolled in flood from bank to bank;

But she neither paused nor faltered, it was simply sink or float,

And the sturdy mountain pony stemmed the torrent like a boat.

Then across the Pilot Ranges as a swallow homeward flies,

And away towards the Bogongs, where the Mitta takes its rise;

She rode ever to the sunset, not a sign to guide her flight,

Save the mountain peaks by daylight, and the Southern Cross by night.

Through the weary hours of travel she had seldom drawn the reins,

When at last appeared before her the great rolling, Fainter plains;

As the rosy flush of morning tipped the topmost mountain cap,

Then her pony's hoofs went ringing down the slopes of Swindler's Gap.

There was stir and consternation in that lonely mountain camp,

For his daughter's hurried visit fairly terrified the scamp;

So he vowed to clear to Queensland, there to change his life and name,

And he gave his child a promise to forsake the life of shame.

Then away rode Andy Brady from an evil past of crime,

From his stronghold in the ranges, in the very nick of time;

For the trooper and the tracker, with their horses spent and blown,

Had almost reached the hollow as their wary bird had flown.

As the trooper gazed in wonder on the dainty, daring girl,

Who had led him such a gallop - well, his heart was in a whirl;

His captive captivated him with look and manner sweet,

And he vowed to lay his fortunes and his future at her feet.

Was there ever such a wooing in this queer old world of ours,

For the maiden's heart responsive, thrilled to love's seductive powers;

It was all so strangely novel, 'twas a case of love at sight,

And the glory of her conquest filled her senses with delight.

So the trooper with his captive, rode in haste to Cooma town,

And was joined in holy wedlock ere the second sun went down;

Then he straightway drove to Sydney with his bonny, blushing bride,

Where he boldly faced the sergeant, and presented her with pride.

There was mutual satisfaction in the interview 'twas plain,

For he promised Andy Brady would not trouble them again;

He'd his daughter as a hostage, who was then his lawful wife -

His orders were to take her, so he'd taken her for life.

There was kindly human nature 'neath the sergeant's honest tan,

And beneath the stern official lay the father and the man;

He was quick to grasp the issue, and the moment then was ripe,

So he gave the bride a blessing, and assured her spouse a stripe.

And we learn that Andy Brady wandered to the Queensland side

Where the place and he were strangers, and the tracks of life were wide;

That he prospered in the district better honoured on the map,

Than the valley in the ranges, which was known as Swindler's Gap.

The morals of the mountains have improved in tone since then,

For the Gippsland boys are noted as a model type of men;

And we have it as a secret from a modest mountain miss,

They have grown so shy of cleanskins, that they wouldn't steal a kiss,

Father Time brings many changes on his sweeping, silent wings,

And with Andy Brady's exit came an altered state of things,

And the cleanskin swindle ended with a sharp and sudden snap,

When the prince of cattle stealers bade farewell to Swindler's Gap.

By Wm Jas Wye