[Editor: This poem by Barcroft Boake was published in Where the Dead Men Lie and Other Poems (1897).]
The Babes in the Bush
Dozens of damp little curls;
One little short upper lip;
Two rows of teeth like diminutive pearls;
Eyes clear and grey as the creek where it swirls
Over the ledges — that’s Tip!
With a skip! —
A perfectly hopeless young nip!
Smudge on the tip of his nose;
Mischievous glance of a Puck;
Heart just as big as the rents in his clothes;
Lungs like a locust and cheeks like a rose;—
Total it! — there you have Tuck!
And bad luck
To the man who would question his pluck!
School is all over at last —
School with its pothooks and strokes:
Homeward they toddle, but who could go fast? —
So many wonderful things to be passed —
Froggie, for instance, who croaks
’Neath the oaks
By the creek where the watercress soaks.
Sandpipers dance on the bars;
Swallows, white-throated and fleet,
Dip thirsty beaks in the stream as they pass;
Smooth water-beetles that twinkle like stars
Watch the gay dragon-flies greet.
Hark how sweet
Is the pipe of the tiny pee-weet!
Near, too, the earth is all torn:
Strong, willing workers have thrown
Great heaps of tailings, smooth-polished and worn,
Round the mysterious caverns that yawn —
Stacks of the snowy quartz stone,
Grass-grown
Piles of the Earth’s dry bone.
Grasshoppers chirp on the brace;
Briars drop berries blood-red
Into the mouldering void of the race;
Green mosses flourish on cutting and face;
Children speak softly, with dread,
When they tread
In this desolate place of the dead.
‘Tum on!’ said Tip, ‘here’s a nest!’
Looking behind as he ran.
‘No,’ said his brother, expanding his chest,
‘I like to play at pro’pectin’ the best’ —
Thumping a rusty old pan;
Then began
To wash up a dish like a man.
‘Tum on! here’s four little eggs!
Do tum!’ — he whimpers his lip:
A-tremble his eyes, wet by tears as he begs,
And sharp briars are scratching his legs.
A branch strikes his face like a whip;
Then a slip —
And a shaft swallows poor little Tip!
Peering and catching his breath,
Tuck felt his little heart swell:
Nothing at all could he see underneath —
P’r’aps poor old Tippy had gone to his death —
Would it hurt him if he fell?
Who could tell
The depth of that horrible well?
‘Tippy! oh, Tip! are you dead?’ …
Never a sound or a sigh!
Tuck held his breath, his heart heavy as lead:
Then: ‘Tuck! where are you? I’ve hurted my head!’
Came up the quav’ring reply;
And a cry:
‘Oh, Tuck! don’t go ’way, or I’ll die!
‘Tuck! it’s so dark; I’m afraid!’ …
He drew down his eyebrows and frowned
Up the creek, down the creek, somewhat dismayed.
Miles to go home; but, again, if he stayed,
How would they ever be found
Underground
In that cavern that swallowed all sound?
‘Tuck, I’m all covered with blood!’
Sobbed the small voice without cess.
‘Why don’t you help me up out of the mud?’
Tuck foraged out a long length of pine wood;
Stripped off his little print dress,
And — just guess!
Rigged a white flag of distress!
Truly the depth was not great —
That, though, the babe did not know;
Lowering himself till the whole of his weight
Hung on the fingers that clutched the blue slate …
‘Please God!’ … he let himself go;
And I trow
That angel hands caught him below.
Never a scratch or a mark!
No, and not even a tear!
Little hands feeling their way through the dark …
What if that other should be stiff and stark?
‘Here I am, Tippy! quite near —
Oh, dear!’
Then came the answer: ‘I’m here!’
Crouched in the mouth of a drive,
Tippy sobbed out his delight —
Not so much hurt, after all — quite alive:
Almost convinced that no harm could arrive
Now that Tuck’s arms clasped him tight.
Then the light
Died slowly, and lo! it was Night.
* * *
Above — the flag blows to the air:
Sad parents seek vainly and weep:
There are lights ’mid the thistles, and cries of despair:
A rifle cracks loudly, and bonfires glare …
Below — where the blind creatures creep,
Hidden deep,
Two pretty babes smile in their sleep.
Source:
Barcroft Boake, Where the Dead Men Lie and Other Poems, Sydney (NSW): Angus and Robertson, 1897, pp. 60-64
Relevant notes from the “Notes to poems” section in this book:
13. THE BABES IN THE BUSH, p. 60. — Now first published. There is no title in MS.
Editor’s notes:
bar = a sandbar, i.e. a long narrow sandbank (a ridge of sand below the surface of the water), which has been built up by the movement of currents, especially found in coastal waters or at the mouth of a river or harbour
brace = (in a mining context) the mouth of a mine shaft
drive = a horizontal tunnel in a mine (as distinct from a shaft, which is sloping or vertical)
fleet = fast, rapid, swift; to move quickly in a nimble manner, to be fast and light of foot
gay = happy, joyous, carefree; well-decorated, bright, attractive (in modern times it may especially refer to a homosexual, especially a male homosexual; can also refer to something which is no good, pathetic, useless)
’mid = an abbreviation of “amid” or “amidst”: of or in the middle of an area, group, position, etc.
’neath = (vernacular) beneath
nip = an abbreviation of “nipper”: a young child, especially a young boy (from young pups nipping at ankles; similar to the term “ankle biter”)
p’r’aps = a contraction of “perhaps”
pro’pectin’ = (vernacular) prospecting
quav’ring = (vernacular) quavering
rent = a rip, a split, a tear (especially in an article of clothing); a ripped or torn gap or hole (derived from “rent”, the past tense of “rend”, i.e. to tear or break in a violent manner)
stroke = a stroke (hit) of a cane, usually applied to the palms of a hand, the backs of the legs, or the buttocks (in early years, a common punishment for misbehaviour in school); to be hit with a cane in a stong or vigorous manner, as a method of punishment
trow = (archaic) think; believe, suppose
’way = (vernacular) away
Leave a Reply