Sunday, April 20

Congarinni and John Patrick Byrnes


Congarinni  is a small village at Nambucca,  and one of it's  pioneers was my great. great , grandfather , Patrick John Byrnes who farmed 295 acres in 1864, to  later operate a general store and pub, to take advantage of  stopovers  to the Bellinger River. Here is a short poem I composed about his life. For more click here 
 


John Patrick Byrnes
In Ireland, in 1836, before the dock, in mortal fear he trembled   
But the judge ruled in clemency, to the colonies transported   
Go forth as a convict these shores now be departed   

 And so below in a filthy hold, as he was tethered   
To scheme all day, when his liberty was granted.  
On shore he worked for slops and bread
Until the pardon came, then to the crooked river
To build an Inn, to farm the land, to raise a family,
Along the crooked river there was no better man.

To the Bullock trains passing by it was a favourite spot
For witty tales, for tasty ales, but not your only lot
For gentlemen seeking tweeds he sold a quality none better   
And so in fame his fortune spread, along the crooked river.

To the cedar kings of high country where rivers just a speck  
To the rivers mouth a graveyard for all the dreaded wrecks
He was the grand innkeeper, the one where all would stay.

This is the story of an Irish lad, who just stole for bread and butter
A pioneer whose fortune was told along the crooked river.

2 comments:

susan said...

He must have been a bright and wonderful man. Your excellent poem provides a concise description of your great great grandfather's busy and creative life.

A week or two ago I read an amusing quip made by an Australian regarding some bit of nonsense in the US news. He said, 'Thank goodness we got the convicts rather than the Puritans.'

Lindsay Byrnes said...

thanks Susan, Your comment has prompted me to include a post about the rather insular unhelpful approach of the US to good world governance !!

Best wishes