The Tale Of The' Martha Mine' Poem by Bob Gibson

There's tales that's told in search of gold, beyond the blackened stump
Where men's desires kindle the fires, of a man named Barry Crump
Miners came from near and far, in the days of the of the great' gold rush
There's thems that was scared, who listened and heard, of happenings out in the bush
This tale is about, and I have no doubt, this story is but true
For greed and gold, and loyalties sold, that are known to all, but a few
Four men they desired, and conveniently acquired, , the makings to mine for gold
With pack horses went, and with further intent, pushed on through the
bushlands wold
They crossed the steams with pack horse teams, through bush no man had been
They made camp, in a kauri swamp where manuka trees were green
The mountain face, they dug with haste, the going got tougher each day
The basalt face, there was neere a trace, not a glint of the golden ray
The days were fraught, the workings wrought, by cave-ins' every yard
Trees were dropped, and the walls were propped, the going, it was hard
Six months of toil, of mountain spoil, was sifted through the stream
Men grow old, in a quest for gold, the men with a common dream!
Mick Jacobs, Barry Crump, Jim Conner, Sid French
The miners muscles wrenched, the tunnel they dug now know
as 'Martha's trench'
One man would work the basalt face, and barrow the spoils to the trough
Another worked the tail race, whilst the others took time off
Mick was digging the basalt face, when he got quite a shock
A sliver of golden ore appeared, amongst the hardened rock
His mind began to wander about his mates demise
He had uncovered a seam of gold, a good hands width in size
His brain was working franticly, the green eyed monster led
The seam he covered up, and he diverted the mineshaft head
When asked about the diversion, he produced a nugget bright
No gold was found, in the tailings mound, something was not right
The lads they smelt a rat! and followed Mick, so the stories told
They found his secret passage, and they found his stash of gold
They had dug so many tunnels, a 'maze' God forbade
They had to use a compass, in the labyrinths they had made
To find the tunnel headrace, took an hour of ones time
And the gold was confiscated, before Mick entered the mine
the lads had made their own plans, revenge is so divine
Loadstones were placed, to trick, the dirty rotten swine
The compass spiraled wildly, magnetic waves abound
The entrance was sealed up, all with out a sound
Mick wandered through the tunnels, but he was seen no more
Barry Jim and Sid they had blocked the door
The 'Martha mine's 'still out there, deep within the bush
Hidden by gorse and bracken and the tailings of the rush