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You were born in Clermont, Queensland on December, twenty-four, 
Away back circa eighteen sevn'ty-two. 
Edward Jones now had a fifth child, whom his dear wife Anna bore, 
Their second son and both were proud of you. 
 
They'd migrated out from Ireland back in eighteen sixty-three 
And sailed upon the good ship Beejapore. 
Landing at Rockhampton harbour in the Queensland colony, 
Resettling on a strange and foreign shore. 
 
Childhood days behind you Victor you then joined the work force lad, 
Assigned to a gold mining company. 
In the range town of Mt Morgan you enjoyed the job you had; 
A diligent and loyal employee. 
 
You assisted the paymaster, though you left your posting when 
You chose to join your countrymen at war. 
For you heard the call of duty and you joined Mt Morgan men 
To fight for Queen and country 'gainst the Boer. 
 
Volunteering as a member of the gallant Q.M.I. 
You proudly donned that feather in your hat. 
First Contingent of B Company you waved this land good-bye, 
Enrolled as British troops and went to bat. 
 
Rebel Boers embarked on raiding farms of loyal colonists 
In Griqualand west district to the north. 
Counter measures were then put in place to stop these terrorists 
By sending Pilcher and his column forth. 
 
On the last day of December circa eighteen ninety-three 
This force would march from Belmont heading west. 
Information was forthcoming as to where the Boers could be 
And Ricardo led his party which was soon put to the test.
 
On the first day of that New Year Victor Jones you lost your life; 
They buried you at Sunnyside that eve. 
Since that day the world's continued to be filled with war and strife, 
So many die for what they do believe. 
 
But the nation recognises that the first Australian 
To die upon the battle field was you. 
So Mt Morgan folk erected to your memory young man 
A monument;  the least that they could do. 
 
In the not too distant future Victor, nations may yet  see, 
How precious all their young men really are. 
Then refrain from sacrificing them and let the young men be, 
Fine fathers to their families, not memories afar.
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