A Spear Fallen off its Shelf

“ Song Of The Old Bull ”

by Wayne David Knoll © 1997

The only old man who belonged to his tribe,
‘ the Old Bull’ of the Burra-Burras;
a man superior in stature to all others,
six foot two from his toes to his crown,
and he weighed a full fifteen stone.

Three score years he had fought hunt and duel,
Taken wives to that chest, and sired a wealth of children.
Three score years he had read the stars and tasted
the wind, as he watched like a man, in making,
collecting his people to go on in the story.

His strength must have been prodigious
of the naked nations; his heart broad as a gnarly
old tree in the great depths of his chest...
Yet, fine was his proportion, so full, his pectorals:
a spear laid across the top of his breast
- as he stood up - remained there - as on a shelf.

Strong enough to hold the generations together,
Many cycles of the sun had he fasted and feasted,
going to flesh as well as to honour. He plied tribal
‘Law’ with old dignity, he issued ‘the challenge
of being human’ for any proper rival, ‘Old Bull’
stood like a man to face the hostile spear.

How many low fellows hated ‘Old Bull’s’ high mark?
How many littlemen, jealous of a size they couldn’t
reach conspired for this last one of stature to be gone.
With cunning they might catch the man with
‘Old Bull’s’ outlook unawares ? So the low fellows
looked to ‘Old Bull’s’ demise.

His strength must have been prodigious
of the naked nations; his heart broad as a gnarly
old tree in the great depths of his chest...
Yet, fine was his proportion, so full, his pectorals:
a spear laid across the top of his breast
- as he stood up - remained there - as on a shelf.

Inglorious, vile, in low purpose were ‘Old Bull’s’ black enemies
who sold their ladies to low-minded whitemen for junk firearms
they dealt in return. Disrepute bred, ignoble malice fed the jealousy
of white men who sold guns to ‘Old Bull’s’ enemies ‘for the express
and bloody purpose’ of bringing him down. In base was treachery.

They came low, hostile on him, whose very existence was
a challenge. They came no closer than ‘Cooee’, and challenged
him with screams. No spear could reach. Honour had no point
of contact. And as distance fed treachery, guns fired from far
away, and ‘Old Bull’ fell killed, with six men of his band, he fell.

His strength must have been prodigious
of the naked nations; his heart broad as a gnarly
old tree in the great depths of his chest...
Yet, fine was his proportion, so full were his pectorals:
a spear laid across the top of his breast
- as he stood up - remained there -as on a shelf.

[Based on the New South Wales eyewitness accounts of G. Mundy in ‘Our Antipodes ’ (Published 1855) (some verbatim quotes - excepts selected by Jim Smith in ‘Aborigines of the Goulburn District’, 1992]