FIRST FLEET

[Maureen K Clifford]

Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet


There’s a park that you’ll find out at Wallabadah, full of headstones and each one inscribed
with the names of First Fleeters – though no bones rest there – it’s a memory now that's described.
A first fleet descendant put money and heart into this unusual creation
as a lasting memorial to those long gone early settlers of our island nation.

Hand carved by a mason, each stone bears the name of a passenger, convict or crew
and some of the convicts no doubt may have worked out with the sheep at Goonoo Goonoo.*
Their names were recorded in shipping records though I doubt that now they’d be recalled
were it not for the tombstones at Wallabadah, where their stories have now folks enthralled.

They came on the Sirius, Charlotte, Supply, Prince of Wales into Botany Bay
and the journey was hard and the journey was long and many were lost on the way.
They came. Some in chains, and some scourged by the lash, some sick, and some dying as well
and all faced the challenge of a country new..some embraced it…to some it was hell.

And some may have known a lass called Mary Ward whose father was known hereabouts.
She was born in August eighteen sixty six and her birth celebrated no doubt.
Her Dad Fred Ward was Captain Thunderbolt and for bushranging he was best known.
But he was in a fact a local Windsor lad, a young bloke who’d been Aussie home grown.

Though some claim Thunderbolt was shot at Uralla others say he was helped away
to America by a landowner Alf Dorrington - that story survives to this day.
Fred was known to all as a defiant scoundrel, and tales all these scoundrels could tell.
If you sit quiet and listen at Wallabadah perhaps you will hear them as well.

So sit ‘neath the Shea Oaks at Quirindi creek with your picnic and let your mind wander
back many years, to far early times when folks had not so much time to squander.
Close your eyes. Hear the wind whisper softly through pine, as through top gallants it was blowing.
Imagine yourself far from country and home, in a land of which you were unknowing.

The start of our nation is depicted here, it commenced with these poor souls deported
and most, far from perfect of that there’s no doubt, but not all were as bad as purported.
Fifteen hundred and twenty souls are listed here and Ray Collins carved each single name
as a lasting memorial to those First Fleeters – to whom our country must lay claim.

*pronounced Gunny Ga-noo

[Brenda Joy]

Thanks Maureen. I love the way you give us regular history lessons. Your research skills are really great put to poetry.
Brenda

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Brenda - I always think that perhaps if poetry and history had been interlinked when I was at school I would have remembered more or been more interested in it - we have such a rich history here in Australia it is a shame that more people are unaware of it, but I have always loved living in historical places and finding out about where I live.

[Catherine Lee]

Oh that's so true Maureen - it is amazing what sometimes come to my mind in rhyme from 'centuries' ago - silly little ditties that mean absolutely nothing, and yet how fantastic it would have been to learn more history in this way! Then perhaps I wouldn't be embarrassed at dinner conversations when I can't answer something I know is in my head somewhere - only to remember it later when I get home! Great poem - I too enjoy combining poetry with history, and love the way you do this so often.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Catherine and congrats to you too - I heard your name mentioned last night at the Ipswich Poetry Feast presentations