Treasure Island

Anonymous Oceania


The Kelly Gang


Oh, Paddy dear, and did you hear
The news that's going round,
On the head of bold Ned Kelly
They have placed two thousand pound.
And on Steve Hart, Joe Byrne and Dan
Two thousand more they'd give,
But if the price was doubled, boys,
The Kelly gang would live.
'Tis hard to think such plucky hearts
In crime should be employed,
'Tis by police persecution
They have all been much annoyed.
Revenge is sweet, and in the bush
They can defy the law,
Such sticking up and plundering
You never saw before.
'Twas in November, Seventy-eight,
When theKelly Gang came down,
Just after shooting Kennedy,
To famed Euroa town;
To rod the bank of all its gold
Was their idea that day,
Blood-horses they were mounted on
To make their getaway.
So Kelly marched into the bank,
A cheque all in his hand,
For to have it changed for money
Of Scott he did demand.
And when that he refused him,
He, looking at him straight,
Said, 'See here, my name's Ned Kelly,
And this here man's my mate.'
With pistols pointed at his nut,
Poor Scott did stand amazed,
His stick he would have liked to cut,
But was with funk half crazed;
The poor cashier, with real fear,
Stood trembling at the knees,
But at last they both seen 'twas no use
And handed out the keys.
The safe was quickly gutted then,
The drawers turned out, as well,
The Kellys being quite polite,
Like any noble swell.
With flimsies, gold and silver coin,
The threepennies and all
Amouning to two thousand pounds,
They made a glorious haul.
'Now hand out all your firearms,'
The robber boldly said,
'And all your amunition -
Or a bullet through your head.
Now get your wife and children -
Come man, now look alive;
All jump into this buggy
And we'll take you for a drive.'
They took them to a station
About three miles away,
And kept them close imprisoned
Until the following day.
The owner of the station
And those in his employ
And a few unwary travellers
Their company did enjoy.
An indian hawker fell in, too,
As everybody knows,
He came in handy to the gang
By fitting them with clothes.
Then with their worn-out clothing
They made a few bonfires,
And then destroyed the telegraph
By cutting down the wires.
Oh, Paddy dear, do shed a tear,
I can't but sympathize,
Those Kellys are the devils,
For they've made another rise;
This time across the billabong,
On Morgan's ancient beat,
They've robbed the banks of thousands,
And in safety did retreat.
The matter may be serious, Pat,
But still I can't but laugh.
To think the tales the bobbies told
Must all amount to chaff.
They said they had them all hemmed in,
They could not get away,
But they turned up in New South Wales,
And made the journey pay.
They rode into Jerilderie town
At twelve o'clock at night,
Aroused the troopers from their beds,
And gave them an awful fright.
They took them in their night-shirts,
Ashamed I am to tell,
They covered them with revolvers
And locked them in a cell.
They next acquainted the womenfolk
That they were going to stay
And take possession of the camp
Until the following day.
They fed their horses in the stalls
Without the slightest fear,
Then went to rest their weary limbs
Till daylight did appear.
Next morning being Sunday morn
Of course they must be good,
They dressed themselves in troopers' clothes,
And Ned, he chopped some wood.
No one there suspected them,
As troopers they did pass,
And Dan, the most religious one,
Took the sergeant's wife to mass.
They spent the day most pleasantly,
Had plenty of good cheer,
Fried beefsteak and onions,
Tomato-sauce and beer;
The ladies in attendance
Indulged in pleasant talk,
And just to ease the troopers minds,
They took them for a walk.
On Monday morning early,
Still masters of the ground,
They took their horses to the forge
And had them shod all round;
Then back they came and mounted,
Theri plans all laid so well,
In company with troopers
They stuck up the Royal Hotel.
They bailed up all the occupants,
And placed them in a room,
Saying, 'Do as we comand you,
Or death will be your doom.'
A chineses cook, 'No savvy' cried,
Not knowing what to fear,
But they brought him to his senses
With a lift under the ear.
All who now approached the house
Just shared a similar fate,
In hardly any time at all
The number was twenty-eight.
They shouted freely for all hands,
And paid for all they drank,
And two of them remained in charge,
And two went to the bank.
The farce was here repeated
As I've already told,
They bailed up all the banker's clerks
And robbed them of their gold.
The manager could not be found,
And Kelly, in great wrath,
Searched high and low, and luckily
He found him in his bath.
The robbing o'er they mounted then,
To make a quick retreat,
They swept away with all their loot
By Morgans' ancient beat;
And where they've gone I do not know,
If I did I wouldn't tell,
So now, until I hear from them,
I'll bid you all farewell.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: fear, farewell, journey, money, silver, fate, children, house, death, horse, change, child, rose

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Kelly Gang by Anonymous Oceania )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. The Old Wheelwright, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  2. The Idiot Girl, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  3. All the Steps, John Taggart
  4. Heimdall, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  5. -, John Taggart
  6. Horses To Market, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  7. Foreign Wife Elegy, Yuko Taniguchi
  8. woh tadap, binod bastola
  9. Old Stalwart, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  10. Uddan, binod bastola

Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth

I

I AM not One who much or oft delight
To season my fireside with personal talk.--
Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]