SONGS OF DIGGER LAND.

Tuapeka Times, Volume VII, Issue 379, 5 August 1874, Page 3

SONGS OF DIGGER LAND.

No. I—Tom's1 — Tom's Conversion. Note. — The incidents related in the following poem are strictly true ; only names are altered. Tom's case is but one out of many where a digger has begun to read the Bible attentively for the first time, and in quoting from it to eh'ange its grand, inspired language into the quaint and homely talk of diggers, and yet retain the idea. The Bible student will at once recognise the source of Tom's curious quotation iv the 17th verse — Isaiah, lii., 10. Wall, stranger, 'spose I must tell yer something ; let's see, It shall be 'bout our Tom i thar's his grave by the tree ; But mind, I when I speaks o£ Joe Brand, why that's me. 'Twas in the summer of fifty one, The Dead Man's Gully Rush had begun ; We diggers were getting gold like fun And fury. Thar was Tom, and Zach, and Joey Brand ; At swearin* Tom was a terrible hand ; And as queer a fellow as lived in tho land, Dan Shury. I don't think we were much of a pious lot ; , On Saturday nights we paid our scot, And we sold at the store all the gold we'd got, And spree' d it. " Taint much of a sort of a life," said Joe ; " We don't take much kaer whar our souls will go j Let's take a Bible, or novel, or so And read it. " And we'll scrap our trousers and make 'etp clean, * While our biled rags kin lie and git air'd on the green ; And then we'll be a little more fit to bo seen On Sundays. " For ye know, mates, wot 'tis thet the good Book says — 'Mind and don't do nothing on Sabbath days ;' So I calkilate, lads, we'll find it pays - On Mondays. " For we'll git up so kind o' peart and spry, Arter lettin the picks and shovels lay by, And thinkin' a little about" time to die, An' cettrer. " For ye see, boys, thar must be a ' Kingdom come ;' Sutbin' more than nobblers, or brandy, or rum ;" So we vow'd as we'd all act properer some, An 1 betterer. But thar, twarn'fc the slightest kind o' use ) Tou might jist as well try to harness a goose, An' make him flip up an' down in the Bluice : It riled us. And then thar wer critters— but thar, aech is life ; (Have a smoke ? don't say no, now ; wal, thar is yer knife) ; For y© see, mate, we nary & one hed a wife : That spiled us.

But I tell yer, stranger, thar kirn a change When Mexican Bill rid over the range, An' preached to us fellers 'bout things so strange, And solemn. "If ye don't repent," sez he, "my men, Yc'll all go down to tho devil's den ; And the Lord won't hear yer bowlings when Ye call him." But one feller came with a squirt full of Buds, An' his pokkifcs all cramm'd with rotten old spuds, An' he told the chaps round he'd wash Parson's dudi, An' clean 'em. " We'll see," says this feller, " wot Mexy is worth ; It'll give the whole bilin' the piousest mirth ;" But just then he ehudder'd and fell to the yerth : I seen him. Then the Preacher cried out, " Make bare thine arm, Lord, And strike rocky hearts ; oh ! strike with thy Word ; 'Tis a hammer, and hearts thou knowest are hard: Oh, break 'em, " And save this poor sinner lyin' down in the dust ; Thou seest his heart aches as if it would bust, And he thinks he's so wicked he's sure to be cussed : Oh, take him." Then Zach bust out Bobbin' and wept like a child, With his face all as red as a lobster wot's biled, An' his eyes starin' out like a hoss when its wild, An' blowin'. And the hars on his head all stiff out astraddle, Like the bristles on Shury's old pig-skin saddle, [ And he turns and whispers, " Mate, let us j skedaddle : j I'm goin'." But just at that moment our Tommy caved in; " Oh Hord," he sings out, " I'm a beggar to sin ; Old Nick I've foller'd right through thick and thin : That's so, Lord. " In cr'ry kind o' vice I've waller'd, Au' never a onst for mercy holler'd, But 'niquity just like nobblers I've swaller'd, You know, Lord. " But now I knows 'twas for coves like me The Lord was nail'd to the cuss'd tree, On top of the mountin called Calvary, To die there. " With Tiio oido ofcafeb'd Iv witli tlie cruel spear, And the 'Ciples a runnin' away iv fear, And only the women a-drawin' near, To cry there. " Now, Lord, I want from my sins to turn ; 'Taint, Lord, because I'm afear'd to burn j But because I'd more of thy marcy learn, To sinners. " For I allers thought 'twas the rich and the grand, Not swearin' fellers like mo and Brand, You intended at last in heaven to land, As winners." Then "Depth of Mercy, can there be?" And " Rock of Ages, cleft for me," Was sung by all, with " Mercy's free To-day, men." " Oh, come at once/ the Parson cried ; " For you, for all the Saviour died ;" Then Tom, close by the Preacher's side, Said "Amen." And then he gave a loud hooray ! " Yes, come, my mates," sez he, " to-day I feel my sins are cast away, For ever. " Oh, Joey Brand and Shury Dan, The Saviour died for every man ; D'ye think ye're left outside his plan ? * No, never." Wal, Tom got railly converted that nighfe ; And his face ! 'twas shinin' and glistnin' bright ; And his eyes ! they was sparklin' and gleamin 1 with light : _ 'Twas 'mazing. Then he sez, " I say, fellers, we've sarv'd Nick too long, Let's go in for Jesus, right off, hot and strong ; Why, mates, I'm bo happy I could bust intc Bong, And praising. " But I must tell to sinners what a Saviour I've found ; Next Sunday I'll Btep it to Yankee Tom's ground, And give 'em a blast of a free Gospel's sound : You come, Joe ?" And he preached Buch a Barmint, and made such a prayer, I'm free to confess, matfls, he made the boys stare ; And a feller I know'd whispered into my car, " That's rum, Joe." For he call'd on tha Lord to slay er'ry sin ; " Oh, Lord God," he cried, " the victory win, Cast out all the brandy, and wiskey, and gin, And smash 'em. "We know 'twas for sinners the dear Jesus died ; But 'twill all be no U6e if our Bins stay inside ; Thou hast tucked up thy shirt-sleeves, oh Lord," then he cried, " Now slash 'em." But hark! Shury's whackin' his spade on the ground ; It's a signal, ye see, that grub time's come round ; Thar'll be inyins and beefsteaks to-day, I'll be bound : Walk spry, mate. " Can't come ? Must be off now ?" Wal, course you know best ; But next time ye'r round yer a-takin' a rest, I'll tell yer 'bout Tom ; poor fellow his blest, Up high, mate. Got smash'd in the claim with a slab of > blue gum ; Lay dead-like till Zach dash'd his face with some rum ; Then he smiled, and he wispered "I'm goin' — you'll come ? Good-bye, mates." Then he died. I »ay, stranger, don't look at me so ; A fellow's eyes sometimes looks weepish. ye know ; An' thar's tears in your own, mate. Wal, let 'em flow, 'Twill ease us. But I know when its ordered "Come up, Joey Brand," Tom'U swing back the pearl-gate» and ketch 'old me hand, An' wisper, as both on us comes to a stand, " That 181 8 Jesus." Felix. Tapanui.