Archive for June 4th, 2021

Friday, 4 June 2021

Wearing Corks by Thomas Henry Wilson

There’s a pesky sort o’ glimmerin‘ in the thin white track ahead, 
And the salt lake seems a-shimmerin‘ like a sea o’ melted lead. 
Ain’t a blessed twig a-stirrin‘—ain’t a livin thing but flies; 
They keep buzzin‘ and a-whirrin‘ at the corks afore my eyes. 
Yes; I’ve got them on at last, 
An’ they’re just the things as talks. 
Don’t give tuppence for the past— 
Wearin‘ Corks. 
 
From Fremantle out to Morgans, and from Morgans further back, 
Where the desert ends the goldfields and the devil ends the track, 
Swallowing mullock from the shaker, gettin fat on cyanide, 
An’ a gettin‘ through it somehow—p’rhaps where better men have died. 
Bet I often got weak-hearted; 
Pretty nigh wiped off me chalks; 
All broke up—until I started 
Wearin‘ Corks! 
 
In the days of wine and women that we always say we’ve had, 
Guess it wasn’t always swimmin‘; sometimes sinking took us bad. 
If we supped off stout and oysters, took a woman to the play, 
We’d a “head” an’ empty pockets—she’d another chap—next day. 
But the night has never fled, 
And, the morrow never baulks, 
And you’ve women, wine, and bed— 
Wearin‘ Corks! 
 
Here’s the “soak”; I’ll light a fire; nicest day I ever felt . 
(Handy piece of fencing wire; do me nicely for a belt.) 
Think I hear a dingo howling—that sounds homely, just alright. 
Guess I know some chap in Sydney’d like to be with me to-night, 
In the city some may scoff, 
But I know—experience talks— 
There’d be thousands better off 
Wearin‘ Corks. 
 
From: ‘Rhymers’ Refuge’ in Sunday Times (Perth, WA : 1902-1954), Sunday, 8 March 1903, p. 10. 
(https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/57221289#) 
 
Date: 1903 
 
By: Thomas Henry Wilson (1867-1925)