Battle of Minderoo

Twas Sabbath morn, the rising sunHad not appeared in view;But day contested with the nightAt beauteous MinderooThe Cork-bark shed a sweet perfume,And the wild Ashburton PeaMade sweeter still the morning air,And birds sang merrilyWhat means this band of armed menWho ride on firey steedsWhat mission brings them this abroadThat so much caution need as,No pannicans or hobble chainsUpon their saddles tied.They seem to hold their very breath,As o'er the plain they ride.How slowly, and how silentlyThey're riding neck, and neck.The impatient neighing of a steedHis rider soon doth check.The sun shows in the Eastern skyIllumining the scene,And lighting up the thick snake-bush,With leaves of heavy green.The startled Emu o'er the plain;Is quickly lost to view,And from the gums with noisy screamThere flies the Cockatoo.A smile comes o'er our leaders face,A smile that seems to showHe feels that job, a warrior feelsWho meets a worthy foe:For there some hundred yards aheadThe dimly burning firesBetray the presence of the foeTo meet whom he desires.A foe both dangerous & cruelWith cunning like to theirsHe means now to surround their camp,And take them unawares;They see the troop, and starting up,

With wild discordant cry.They yell like fiends, & on the whitesIntimidation try.They little know that leader bold;Who fought in many a fieldWith stern commanding voice he crysOn every man to yield.They answer with their fighting spearsMost cruelly barbed in rowsWith cooley's, and with clubs they tryto disconcert their foes.Now Hooley had that barbed spear,But one inch nearer been;By Heaven above youryour wife, & childYou never more had seen.Well shot bold Bob! that warriorHis earthly course has run;He'll never throw another spear,Nor view the setting sun.Bold trooper Vincent's restive steedDoth rear with all his forceHe only asks to fight on footIf one will hold his horseNow Ensign Willie's mare doth try,From off the field to boltShe kicks, and rears but still Will letsThem taste his navy coltM Rae confronts the dusky foeUpon his well trained horse;He fears no spears; alike defiesThe coyles whirling force.An ugly smile upon his faceMost dangerous to seeDescended evidently fromA Scottish ancestry.His rein hangs loosely on his arm;His rifle grasped tightHe sits just like one carved in stone,And cooly takes a sightThe leader of the savagesThe white man's arms defies;

Encouraging his followersWith yelps & shouts, & cries.His left hand grasps a painted shield,His right his spears, & restTo strike the horses of the foe;He bids them do their bestBut suddenly his shield is droppedHis spears are scattered round,With loud despairing cry of rageHe drops upon the groundA bullet from M Rae's good pieceHas gone right through his brain.He never more will use that shield,Nor throw those spears againHurrah! cries Thatcher with delightThat shot was worth a crown;Another warrior bites the dustThe boldest of them down.Their leader gone, & falling fastFor mercy then, they pray,And send their prettiest women outTo plead with bold M RaeThat flinty hearted championThe damsels proudly eye;He heeds not their entreating looks,Nor cares about their sighs."Send out the old men, and the boys;We only fight with men.Throw down your arms, unship your spearsWe'll talk of quarter then".They send out boys, & aged men,The nuncaberrys stayAnd fight like wolves, or tigers tillThey're vanquished by M Rae.And there they lay upon the plainA ghastly sight to viewTheir life blood stains the clayey soilOf beauteous Minderoo.

By murdering natives on that plainA lesson may be read;"Whose sheddeth the blood of manBy man shall his be shed."