The Wild Scotchman Poem
By Edna MacPherson SABATO.
Did he ever ponder, as he sat alone,
Of parents and family, and could he atone,
For the worry and shame that had entered their lives,
Since he started this life of excitement and fire?
Was he always a rebel, this fiery young Scot?
Circumstances changed him, like as not,
When refused his pay for a job poorly done,
No wonder he demanded, in his hand a gun!
And so on the road to adventure and fun,
Stealing fine horses, so he could run,
Around the country, to Bail-up mailmen,
And steal the mail, for the money therein.
Pat McCallum's life was enlivened,
Several "Bail-up"s he heard in Nanango's environs.
Lost mail, saddle, bridle, pants and horse.
Did this fill the Wild Scot with remorse?
A life of running and hiding he made,
In caves he enhanced with his stonemason's trade.
Some are still noted, in widespread area,
All famous, because the "Wild Scotchman hid here".
Records show he had help from the people,
Who fed him - at Didcot a young Chinee,
Ordered extra stores, a fact noted by bosses,
Who directed a blind eye to these losses.
At night, near a farm, a "Coo-ee" would echo,
And "Grand-Dad" would take food to his brother.
In an Ipswich hotel, where his trail south led,
Some good friends hid him under a bed.
A lady near Gayndah, when he appeared on a hill,
Would prepare him a meal, let him eat his fill.
Polite, and a gentleman, she proclaimed him to be.
Generous, too, - he always left her a "fee".
Eight years in jail was the price that he paid,
For the trouble he caused, and the havoc he made.
Freedom at last, what a wonderful feeling,
Enough to send a young man's mind reeling.
He went to the West, not to the life he had led,
Met a lovely young lady, to whom he was wed.
Seven children were born in the following years,
One died as an infant, which moved him to tears.
His life ended in Burketown, one July day.
His horse bolted, fell on him, in pain he lay.
For three days he lingered, then sadly passed on.
We regret not knowing the Wild Scotchman.
His memory lives on in the town of Gin Gin,
(He was captured on the Station, "Monduran").
Every year, in March, his Capture is feted,
By descendants and friends, good times unabated.