A set of three poems about the closure and reopening of the Mt Lyell mine at Queenstown, Tasmania, by Leo Deacon of Queenstown
WONDERING
(1994)
I'm sitting on the hillside
The town spread out below,
Wondering what will happen,
Where will everybody go.
They say the mine is closing
Sometime in '94,
If production targets can't be reached
It might even be before.
The Hydro Scheme is almost done
And is rapidly winding down,
That's a lot more worried people
Who will quickly leave this town.
Some tourists do the Gordon Cruise,
There are fish farms in the bay,
To earn an honest living
There seems to be no other way.
The valleys are too wet to plough,
The hills are far too steep,
And the rocky barren country
Wouldn't feed a mob of sheep.
The trees have all been taken
So we can't start up a mill.
And I'm told it's quite illegal
To start a whisky still.
The old hands they'll stay on,
They've been here far too long
To change their style of living,
And join the city throng.
What of the young provider
His life is yet to live,
To go on unemployment!
Is that all fate can give?
I guess it's “hump the bluey”
Like his Father did before,
And hope he can find a place,
To set up house once more.
GOODNIGHT MT LYELL
(1994, when Mt Lyell closed down)
Well finally the word has come
Mt Lyell is closing down,
But it's memory will live on
With the people of this town.
In our minds we'll hear the whistle
To start the working day.
It meant you had to be there
Not just on the way.
Right along Philosopher's Ridge
From the Comstock to Karlson's Gap,
Their mining lease goes all the way,
You can see it on the map.
They started off with hadn tools
And sticks of Gelignite,
To wrest the riches from the earth,
A constant uphill fight.
They open cut the surface
And tunnelled the deeper ore
With drives and shafts and little off shoots
And drill holes by the score.
It takes a special breed of men
To work the Underground.
The men who worked the Mt Lyell field
Were the toughest to be found.
Methods have changed through the years,
Technology now shows the way.
The Jumbo Drill and massive truck
Is the way it's done today.
They built a unique railway
That travelled on cogs and a rack.
The only way to climb the hills
Of this mountainous railway track.
The smelters are no longer there
The stacks have fallen down.
Was the smoke from out these might stacks
Changed the landscape of this town.
Don't listen to the pessimists
Or news in the tabloid sheets.
Mt Lyell isn't dying,
It's only going to sleep.
GOODNIGHT MT LYELL.
GOOD MORNING MT LYELL
(December 1995, the mine was opened)
Wake up Mt Lyell. It's time to stir. You've been asleep a year.
There are miners standing by the gate with a whole new swag of gear.
There's a massive Jumbo drilling rig with rods and bits galore.
And stacks of plates and rock bolts racked up down at the store.
The Prince Lyell shaft's still working, or you can use the Main Decline.
There's no water down below, it's still a working mine.
You're already down a thousand feet, there's another five hundred more.
There's copper the width of the mountain. That's a helluva lot of ore.
It's time to hear the tumble of the rocks coming down the hill.
And the steady grinding rumble as they're going through the mill.
There's a gully out near the aerodrome where you can build a tailings dam.
You must keep the river clean. It's a vital part of the plan.
Come on, let's blow the whistle, get those miners on the go.
Come, let's blow the whistle, let everybody know.
The valley's full of morning mist, the sun's just breaking through.
Come on Mt Lyell get out of bed, there's a lot of things to do.