A HEADSTONE FOR UNCLE TOBY
Posted: Sun Mar 17, 2013 6:41 pm
Bizarre as this sounds it is a true story - Old Yuleba thus named because the original town was moved from beside the creek where it often flooded to a higher and drier area just known then as Yuleba. Yuleba hasn't changed much since those days. It was a change station for Cobb and Co... Cobb and Co's last Australian coach run was from Yuleba to Surat in 1924. and these days is a mere whistle stop station with the highway running alongside the railway line whicH you still have to cross in the same spot that Toby died if you want to go to the pub as the rail line and highway cut the town in two. Blink and you'll miss it.
A HEADSTONE FOR UNCLE TOBY
Young Toby had died many years ago
at a time when the family was poor.
He now spent his days in an unmarked grave
causing grief to his sister for sure.
She too was approaching the end of her time
and knowing her race was near run.
It preyed on her mind that unmarked Toby laid.
Wasn’t right for the favourite son.
A family conclave was finally held.
With heated discussion and thought.
His sister had long saved to buy Toby’s headstone
and now finally one was bought.
With the headstone and lunch in the back of the Ute
on a Saturday early in June
the family departed to get the job done
and hoped to be finished by noon.
No one was quite sure where dear old Toby lay
we’d been given a plan of the plot
In the middle was Toby, not sure which way round,
but we finally found the right spot.
The tape measure measured and all cast about
for a peg confirming calculations
but by pacing it out it out and dividing by three
we determined his last destination.
The other two graves that lay on either side
had no headstone to give us a guide
and as previously shown there was no way to be
knowing which way Toby lay inside,
So with accurate measure and deliberation
we decided the middle would be
a rather good spot for the headstone to go,
somewhere between shoulder and knee.
I have to be honest I doubt Toby cared,
but honour was now satisfied.
Big sister had done what she wanted to do,
since the time that poor Toby had died.
So out there at Ipswich, not far from the road,
where pink Oleander trees bloom
there’s a simple memorial stone for a man,
whose young life was taken too soon.
And well you might think Toby died in the war,
but not so as I hasten to tell,
he was actually run down by a train
and it killed the poor draughthorse as well.
Back then there was only just one train a day
that passed through the Old Yuleba station
and folks would set watches and clocks when they heard
her whistle announcing destination.
But this day for reasons unknown she was late
and Toby was heading to town.
No signal lights then or safety precautions
graced this dirt road rutted and brown.
Did he have the sun in his eyes and not see?
Nobody knows and none could agree
the bloody train hit him and killed him outright,
his end at least swift mercifully.
And had that train kept to her schedule that day
no doubt Toby would have grown old.
And doubtless some good reasons for the delay,
that part of the stories untold.
Ironic that life can be snatched in a glance,
for some just unlucky there’s no second chance
and Toby they say never tasted romance
or waltzed a girl round in a dance.
Alas now his sister’s departed this earth
and few of the old ones remain.
Their children and grandchildren all carry on,
and remember their relative’s pain.
For a bush life hard now, was even more so then,
when home was a rough country shack.
They lived and survived, sent their young men to wars,
and sorrowed, for so few came back.
So just give a thought if you drive through our country
and old country churchyards you see.
With toppling tombstones, aged, lichened and grey,
‘neath the shade of the Ironbark trees.
For there resting ’neath those memorial stones
are someone’s Toby, Jack and Tom.
Long departed, but never forgotten because
family memories still linger on.
.
Maureen Clifford © edited 03/13
A HEADSTONE FOR UNCLE TOBY
Young Toby had died many years ago
at a time when the family was poor.
He now spent his days in an unmarked grave
causing grief to his sister for sure.
She too was approaching the end of her time
and knowing her race was near run.
It preyed on her mind that unmarked Toby laid.
Wasn’t right for the favourite son.
A family conclave was finally held.
With heated discussion and thought.
His sister had long saved to buy Toby’s headstone
and now finally one was bought.
With the headstone and lunch in the back of the Ute
on a Saturday early in June
the family departed to get the job done
and hoped to be finished by noon.
No one was quite sure where dear old Toby lay
we’d been given a plan of the plot
In the middle was Toby, not sure which way round,
but we finally found the right spot.
The tape measure measured and all cast about
for a peg confirming calculations
but by pacing it out it out and dividing by three
we determined his last destination.
The other two graves that lay on either side
had no headstone to give us a guide
and as previously shown there was no way to be
knowing which way Toby lay inside,
So with accurate measure and deliberation
we decided the middle would be
a rather good spot for the headstone to go,
somewhere between shoulder and knee.
I have to be honest I doubt Toby cared,
but honour was now satisfied.
Big sister had done what she wanted to do,
since the time that poor Toby had died.
So out there at Ipswich, not far from the road,
where pink Oleander trees bloom
there’s a simple memorial stone for a man,
whose young life was taken too soon.
And well you might think Toby died in the war,
but not so as I hasten to tell,
he was actually run down by a train
and it killed the poor draughthorse as well.
Back then there was only just one train a day
that passed through the Old Yuleba station
and folks would set watches and clocks when they heard
her whistle announcing destination.
But this day for reasons unknown she was late
and Toby was heading to town.
No signal lights then or safety precautions
graced this dirt road rutted and brown.
Did he have the sun in his eyes and not see?
Nobody knows and none could agree
the bloody train hit him and killed him outright,
his end at least swift mercifully.
And had that train kept to her schedule that day
no doubt Toby would have grown old.
And doubtless some good reasons for the delay,
that part of the stories untold.
Ironic that life can be snatched in a glance,
for some just unlucky there’s no second chance
and Toby they say never tasted romance
or waltzed a girl round in a dance.
Alas now his sister’s departed this earth
and few of the old ones remain.
Their children and grandchildren all carry on,
and remember their relative’s pain.
For a bush life hard now, was even more so then,
when home was a rough country shack.
They lived and survived, sent their young men to wars,
and sorrowed, for so few came back.
So just give a thought if you drive through our country
and old country churchyards you see.
With toppling tombstones, aged, lichened and grey,
‘neath the shade of the Ironbark trees.
For there resting ’neath those memorial stones
are someone’s Toby, Jack and Tom.
Long departed, but never forgotten because
family memories still linger on.
.
Maureen Clifford © edited 03/13
