The Legend Of Cooee Gully

The night came down thro Deadmans Gap,     Where the ghostly saplings bent     Before a wind that tore the fly     From many a diggers tent.     Dark as pitch, and the rain rushed past     On a wind that howled again;     And we crowded into the only but     That stood on the hillside then.     The strong pine rafters creaked and strained,     Til we thought that the roof would go;     And we felt the box-bark walls bend in     And bulge like calico.     A flood had come from the gorges round:     Thro the gullys bed it poured.     Down many a deep, deserted shaft     The yellow waters roared.     The scene leapt out when the lightning flashed     And shone with a ghastly grey;     And the night sprang back to the distant range     Neath a sky as bright as day.     Then the darkness closed like a trap that was sprung,     And the night grew black as coals,     And we heard the ceaseless thunder     Of the water down the holes.     And now and then like a cannons note     That sounds in the battle din,     We heard the louder thunder spring     From a shaft, when the sides fell in.     We had gathered close to the broad but fire     To yarn of the by-gone years,     When a coo-ee that came from the flooded grounds     Fell sharp on our startled ears.     We sprang to our feet, for well we knew     That in speed lay the only hope;     One caught and over his shoulder threw     A coil of yellow rope.     Then, blinded oft by the lightnings flash,     Down the steep hillside we sped,     And at times we slipped on the sodden path     That ran to the gullys bed.     And on past many a broken shaft     All reckless of risk we ran,     For the wind still brought in spiteful gusts     The cry of the drowning man.     But the cooeying ceased when we reached the place;     And then, ere a man could think,     We heard the treacherous earth give way     And fall from a shafts black brink.     And deep and wide the rotten side     Slipped into the hungry hole,     And the phosphorus leapt and vanished     Like the flight of the strangers soul.     And still in the sound of the rushing rain,     When the night comes dark and drear,     From the pitch-black side of that gully wide     The coo-ee youll hear and hear.     Coo-ee, coo-e-e-e, low and eerily,     It whispers afar and drear,     And then to the heart like an icy dart     It strikes thro the startled ear!     Dreader than wrung from the human tongue     It shrieks oer the sound of the rain,     And back on the hill when the wind is still     It whispers and dies again.     And on thro the night like the voice of a sprite     That tells of a dire mishap     It echoes around in the gullys bound     And out thro Deadmans Gap.