Paul Andrews Poet Rhyme

Ned Kelly

There once was a man called Ned
Who got it into his head
To fight the state 
Which sealed his fate 
And was hung until he was dead.

Fitzpatrick tried it on with Ned’s sister 
Something I’d advise against mister
He came looking for strife 
Was lucky to escape with his life
Thus began a story quite sinister.

For Ned at Stringybark Creek 
The police did desperately seek
In all three police lay dead
Leaving a price on his head
The future for Ned would be assuredly bleak.

He rode the Wombat Ranges
Mindful of the dangers
With Steve, Joe and brother Dan
There was never a tougher man
Sheltered by family, friends and strangers.

Irish Catholic and poor
He fought against the law
With fists and with gun
And always on the run
An unjust system he did abhor.

The infamous Glenrowan shootout
Is something no doubt you’ve heard about 
Wearing a suit of armour 
Made of steel plates gotten from a farmer
By burning the inn they smoked Ned out.

Judged by Barry at the Melbourne court
It would seem context accounts for naught
For Ned the outcome couldn’t be worse 
But he placed on Barry a prophetic curse
The end to Barry’s life Ned sought.

At the Old Melbourne gaol it all ended
When poor Ned’s neck was extended 
He lost when fighting the law
But will never be forgotten by the poor
The right to live free he boldly defended.

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