The Old Yundamindera Pub
With mud walls rough and weathered,
The old pub stands four square
But there’s now no horses tethered,
No miners drinking there
The rusted roof is leaking,
The bar room walls are bare,
A loose door’s eerie creaking,
The only sound you hear.
Gone are the hardy miners,
Who did their drinking there;
Gone are the hungry diners,
Who thrived on the Landlords fare.
A wall in the hall is shattered
From a shotguns fierce blast,
When old Joe shot at Harris,
As he went through the door, too fast.
The rambling rooms resounded
To laughter bright and gay,
As lusty miners revelled,
All through the night and day.
But now there is deadly silence
Throughout the empty halls,
With only the night winds violence,
As it beats against the walls.
The bats have taken over,
The big owls sit and mourn,
And ghostly shadows quiver,
In the dim half light of dawn.
By 1973 the old Victoria Hotel had almost come to an end of its life. The exceptionally heavy rains of that last years were causing the mud brick walls to crumble. All that remains today are the stone foundations and the mud bricks have all weathered back into the red earth.
Moya Sharp
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