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C J Dennis - Youth Revisited
Work rating: Low

Can this be the old town of wheat-teams and saddle-hacks,
   Of Ted Toll`s smithy, with the anvil ringing clear,
Of stacks in the station yard, and stockmen, and farming hands,
   Of bow-legged bound`ry riders coming in for beer --
This strange, new, brisk town of sweet-shops and petrol pumps --
   Petrol pumps with motor cars dashing up and down?
Yet there stands the old church, the bluestone baker`s shop,
   And the queer, shrunken houses of my old home town.

What has become of him -- Little Johnny Parkinson?
   Little Johnny Parkinson out upon a bust --
The long red beard of him, the red-rimmed eyes of him;
   Red from the harvest field and winnower dust.
Five foot two of him -- Little Johnny Parkinson,
   Driving in his wheat team, down the dusty street;
Red beard, red eyes, red bandana neckerchief -
   Little Johnny Parkinson, who took his whiskey neat.

What has become of him -- Big Jack Herringford?
   Big Jack Herringford, champion of the stacks,
Where the lumpers, laboring, climbed the crazy wooden ways --
   One, two, three hundred pounds upon their backs.
Big Jack Herringford, soft-hearted Hercules,
   Went to the West land and won a fortune there.
Was the gold a bension to Big Jack Herringford?
   Does anybody know, or does anybody care?

What has become of him -- Black Tom Boliver?
   Black Tom, Dude Tom, of the shearing shed -
The bold, black eyes of him, the well-oiled curls of him,
   The cabbage-tree hat well back upon his head.
What has become of them, all the men I used to know?
   Only one I recognise of all men there;
But one has a smile for me -- schoolmate Jimmy Tomlinson --
   Laughing Jimmy Tomlinson, with snow-white hair.
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