Where the Brave Men Camped

Out on a lonely track Somewhere in the East McDonalds My boots Lift the red dust slowly To form a little cloud That as the day passes Will fall and settle Again, upon the Dry red ground As the day’s heat rises With me into the hills I am none the wiser Where their camps may be I find their holes And the old ghost town But their camps elude me As the sun rises higher So does the cursing Of the flies that coat my face And their torturous Desert face crawling’s Between great ancient rocks And down dry creek beds Where Garnets and zircons glitter For the life of me I cannot find Their old litters If only I could talk to that mob of camels Or the Dingo's that serenade Borrow the eyes of the Wedgetail They’ll show me Where they laid Or has time Washed their traces From this scene Or bushfire Scorched any sign away Heat an cold Weathered them to dust Like the bones Of an old miner’s hut How brave These Italian miners To seek Their fortunes here In the McDonald ranges Far From their land and sea’s I turn toward my camp Time to prepare For a cold Desert night Will resume my search In the Morrow For where The brave men Camped