Just recently, I was helping a lady search for information on her grandfather who was once the mayor of Cue in the Murchison. While looking for information, I came across the following verse which was written about him when he became one of the trustees of the Cue Cemetery.
Sunday Press 26 July 1903, page 1 – James W Patterson, editor of The Murchison Times, and James Moloney, the publican, have been gazetted joint trustees of the Cue cemetery.
THE TRUSTEES OF THE DEAD.
by The Swagman
You, who art ruler of The Times.
What morbid fancy led
You from the busy paths of life
To meddle with the dead?
You, who have all your life has been gay.
Fighting a battle brave,
How comes it that we find you now
A trustee of the grave?
And Jim Moloney? What has he
To do with “parting scenes? ”
What does he know about the dead.
Unless it’s dead marines?
Did you know when you allowed
Your name to be gazetted
That in a very serious crime
You aided and abetted?
You’re trustee of a grave-yard, sir,
And let me you apprise
You’re not alone trustee of ground.
But all that in it lies
And when the final bugle sounds
And th’ universe is bust.
You’ll have to ante up the bones
Of those you’ve held in trust.
Picture a crowd of miners stern,
When Gabriel plays the chimes.
Who’ll point you out as their trustee.
The bloke who ran The Times!
And think what chance a man would have
Who stalks up gaunt and bony
And tries to pass St. Peter’s chair
In charge of Jim Moloney.
He’d never get inside the rails.
Much less ascend the throne,
Whereas he might have had a chance
If he had been alone.
I honor you in that I know
You’ve done it for the best,
But take a friend’s advice in time
And let the dead ‘uns rest!
Moya Sharp
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