Category Archives: CROSSROADS

“A bushranger’s life is wretched and miserable. There is a constant fear of capture and the least noise in the bush is startling. There is no peace day or night.” Matthew Brady Tasmanian bushranger, (1799 – 1826)

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Maids of The Mountains


 In the wild Weddin Mountains there live two young dames

Kate O’Meally, Bet Mayhew are their pretty names;

These maids of the mountains are bonny bush belles,

They ride out on horseback, togged out like young swells.

They dressed themselves up in their brothers’ best clothes,

And looked very rakish as you may suppose,

In the joy of their hearts they chuckled with glee –

What fun if for robbers they taken should be .

Just then the policemen by day and by night,

Were seeking Frank Gardiner, the bushranger sprite;

Bold Constable Clark wore a terrible frown,

And thought how Sir Freddy by Frank was done brown.

 They sought for the ‘ranger, but of course found him not,

When suddenly Katy and Betsy they spot;

‘By Pott!’ shouted Clark, ‘that is Gardiner I see!

The wretch must be taken – come boys, follow me.’

 ‘Stand!’ shouted the bobbies in accents most dread,

‘Or else you will taste our infallible lead.’

But the maids of the mountains just laughed at poor Clark,

And galloped away to continue their lark.

 The troopers pursued them and hot was the chase,

‘Tis only in Randwick they go at such pace;

Clark captured the pair, then to show his vexation,

He lugged them both off to the Young police station.

 The maids of the mountains, the joke much enjoyed

To see their brave captors so sadly annoyed;

Next day they still smiled as they stood in the dock;

Their awful position their nerves did not shock.

 But Constable Clark did not look very jolly,

He had no excuse for such absolute folly;

He admitted the girls were just out on a spree,

And hoped that His Worship would set them both free.


And so the farce ended of Belles versus Blues,

Which caused no grerat harm and did much to amuse;

But the Burrangong bobbies will place in their cells,

No more maids of the mountains, the bonny bush belles.

nb. Kate O’Meally’s brother was one of Ben Halls gang members.

Roosters’ tail feathers: pretty but always behind. Malagasy


Más vale que digan “aquí corrió una gallina” y no “aquí murió un gallo”

It is preferable that people say “here fled a hen” rather than “here died a rooster”.

Better for people to conclude and say you are a coward than that they sing your praises over your dead body. 

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Experience is the best teacher, but the tuition is high.


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“Do not resent your place in the story. Do not imagine yourself elsewhere. Do not close your eyes and picture a world without thorns, without shadows, without hawks. Change this world. Use your body like a tool meant to be used up, discarded, and replaced. Better every life you touch. We will reach the final chapter. When we have eyes that can stare into the sun, eyes that only squint for the Shenikah, then we will see laughing children pulling cobras by their tails, and hawks and rabbits playing tag.”

― N.D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God’s Spoken World