“When I arrived upon the diggings, and beheld the beautiful grazing country torn up…

hillocks of dug up earth the size of houses…the strange sight made me feel quite wretched.

   William Collins Maitland Mercury 16 May 1872.

All roads lead from Gulgong or Tambaroora 

Weighed down with logs, the bullock drays pass

ploughing a path from the fields, leave behind

bare scrub, stumpy roots. A wash of mud

A digger joins the thousand at the miner’s camp

Pitches a tent, strips bark from gums on the creek

Slab by slab he builds a shack, pays half a quid

for a Miners’ Right to work on Crown Land 

Sluices the clay with other men, leaves gravel

and sand,  tailings piled high on ‘the lead’

Works for low wages when his luck runs out

winching at a mine-head for a wealthy gent

He buys a native possum cloak, from some bloke

he met, traded who know where for who knows

what. A nobody who watched the white man

clear the land, graze white sheep. Dig up

his ancient streams for a glitter or gleam

A golden magic, stirring men to frenzy

after Miner’s camp Hill End - a2822650