Along the Road to Cue
The race for gold that charms the bold
Finds toil for men and beast
And they, who left the East of old
Are daily streaming East
The whips that crack along the track
Are strong, the horses too
And strong the words the teamsters use
Along the road to Cue
The words they use
To mark their views
Along the road to Cue
O fierce bears down the sun o’erhead,
High poised in cloudless skies;
Thick lies the dust beneath our tread
And thicker swarm the flies
But flies and heat and dust and thirst
And nags that pull askew,
They each an all get soundly cursed
Along the road to Cue
I’ve seen some travellers look askance,
And others chafe and fret;
I’ve known the camel’s passing glance
Betoken pain’d regret –
He cannot make his protest heard,
Unlike the cockatoo
Which shrieking flies from many a word
Along the road to Cue
The horse power words
Which shook the birds
Along the road to Cue
Thames bargemen hide resourceful lips
behind their blackened pipes,
So do mates of sailing ships
That fly the Stars and Stripes
I’ve heard them both of old and each
Can objurgate ‘a few’,
But loftier heights than these they reach
Along the road to Cue
Choice gems of speech
Beyond our reach
Along the road to Cue
I’ve heard bluff costers bless their mokes
In soft enraptur’d tones;
I know the way the gangers coax,
The men who lift the stones
And yet I somehow fancy both
Could learn a thing or two –
Some up-to-date appropriate oath,
Along the road to Cue
Some brand new oath
Of native growth
Along the road to Cue
“Tis sad that wit should waste its fire
And rhetoric spend its force
Upon the unresponsive wire,
The unreflecting horse,
The waste, per hour, of motive power,
If half I say be true
Would surely drive ten head of stamps, To crush the quartz at Cue
Ten head of stamps
To wake the camps
Between Day Dawn and Cue
In truth I never knew before
(For all the songs I’ve sung)
One-half the plenteous verbal store
That marks our Saxon tongue,
So don’t decline this wreath of mine,
‘Tis honest merit’s due,
Knights of the lash who earn your cash
Along the road to Cue
Who ply the lash
With bank and dash
Along the road to Cue
Moya Sharp
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Just read the book “The Old Coach Roads” by Alex Palmer, where the rest of this poem is (by Andre Haywood) Great Poem…Fantastic Book!!