Oh Frank Gardiner is caught at last and lies in Sydney jail,
For wounding Sergeant Middleton and robbing the Mudgee mail.
For plundering of the gold escort, the Carcoar mail also;
And it was for gold he made so bold, and not so long ago.

His daring deeds surprised them all throughout the Sydney land,
And on his friends he gave a call, and quickly raised a band.
And fortune always favoured him, until this time of late,
Until Ben Hall and Gilbert met with their dreadful fate.

Young Vane, he has surrendered, Ben Hall's got his death wound,
And as for Johnny Gilbert, near Binalong was found,
He was all alone and lost his horse, three troopers came in sight,
And fought the three most manfully, got slaughtered in the fight.

Farewell, adieu, to outlawed Frank, he was the poor man's friend.
The Government has secured him, the laws he did offend.
He boldly stood his trial and answered in a breath,
'And do what you will, you can but kill; I have no fear of death!'

Day after day they remanded him, escorted from the bar,
Fresh charges brought against him from neighbours near and far,
And now it is all over; the sentence they have passed,
All sought to find a verdict, and 'Guilty' 'twas at last.

When lives you take, a warning boys, a woman never trust:
She will turn round, I will be bound, Queen's evidence, the first.
He's doing two-and-thirty years; he's doomed to served the Crown,
And well may he say, he cursed the day he met with Mrs Brown.


About William Lisle Bowles


Bowles was born at Northamptonshire and educated at Trinity College, Oxford, receiving his Batchelor of Arts in 1786 and Master of Arts in 1792. He was ordained deacon in 1788. He served as curate at Wiltshire (1788), rector at Chicklade (1795), Dumbleton (1797) and Bremhill, Wiltshire (1804). He became prebendary (1804) and canon residentiary (1828) at Salisbury Cathedral. Though he mostly led a city life as a clergyman and magistrate, his writings reveal a longing for rural retirement. Though his first work was well received by the early romantic poets, most of his work is no longer read. He is... Read more...

Poet of the day

Richard Chenevix Trench was born on September 9, 1807, North Frederick Street, Dublin, Ireland. His father was Richard Trench, his mother Melesina, only grandchild and heiress of Richard Chenevix, Bishop of Waterford, and widow of Colonel St. George. Trench’s home in childhood was Elm Lodge, close to the village of...
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Poem of the day


I have come far enough
from where I was not before
to have seen the things
looking in at me from through the open door

and have walked tonight
by myself
to see the moonlight
and see it as trees

and shapes more fearful Read more...