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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Hunted by Don Johnson Brisbane-Australia On a bitter cold and moonless night, there came a gentle knock at the door. Only half heard Joe did stir from sleep, alight, to meet a stranger exhausted and footsore. The hunted man did look in doubt, quick eyed he searched this place. Then he asked "Any traps about?" Joe whispered "Not a trace!" Joe made a meal for this hungry man, of corned meat and damper too. They drank strong tea from a pannican, ....tin cup in dull light of the lantern's hue. Before the dawn could break he rode away , this man with the haunted look. Long gone he'd be by the light of day, when the Traps did wake the cook. ….....Mounted Police "Our tracker says he came past here, ......Aboriginal Tracker it's here we lost his trail. The bounder flogged his overseer, we'll take him back to jail!" These police it's then they rode away, with tracker and packhorse too. The tracker searched and couldn't say, why no tracks, just a blank he drew? But word did come on the grapevine, of our convict's good escape. From the men of the first fleet convict line, good men make no mistake! In the 1880's there were thousands of ex convicts who associated with the deported from Ireland, Irish rebels and local Bushrangers in Australia - Their natural enemy the rich landowners and the English/Irish Police.
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