Results 2024 Rae Alison Cerhan Australian Ballad Competition 

FIRST PLACE:
Rivers I Knew, David Judge

SECOND PLACE:
When Angels Come, Tom McIllveen

THIRD PLACE:
The Race Napoleon Won, Elizabeth Egan

SHORT LISTED:
A Poet’s Voice, David Campbell
Saga of an Irish Lass, Jim Kent

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Winning Ballad

Rivers I Knew
by David Judge

In the summertime heat they were places to meet
for relief from a sweltering day,
when the sun would beat down on our small outback town
as it searingly went on its way.
From the time it arose ‘til that place where it goes
when the stars and the moon reappear,
it would send down its rays on those long summer days
that we knew would come year after year.

The Macquarie I knew where the river gums grew
had a rope that we hung from a tree,
and although it was deep, the banks muddy and steep,
it was fun we could all have for free.
And not too far downstream where the shallows would gleam
on the ripples that ran to the shore,
we would sit in a pool that was shaded and cool,
to the sound of cicadas galore.

There were kids with their dogs, others just had their togs
and a truck tube to go with the flow,
with no rudder or keel, past the swamp hens and teal
we would float to the rapids below.
For those up for a ride we would silently glide
’til the turbulence tumbled and spun,
the old truck tube around to the rapturous sound
of my mates and me having some fun.

And The Bogan I knew had an old bridge or two
for the cars and the trucks and the trains,
where the swallows would nest and the swaggies could rest
as they wandered the far western plains.
And with ‘No’ on the sign we would throw in a line
or be silly and jump in or dive,
which in hindsight today we can give thanks and say
that a miracle kept us alive.

When the river was low we’d all know where to go
to find yabbies, a catfish or eel,
and with no place to hide they’d be flipped to the side
to be part of a riverside meal.
Over years we would learn that the rains would return
to replenish that bountiful force,
which meandered its way to a place far away
from the realms of its mountainous source.

Where the river was wide on the town’s other side,
there were shanties of hessian and rust,
and the barefooted few of the dark kids I knew
had a story we never discussed.
They were magic at sport and they had our support
when we played against visiting teams,
but as mates in a game they were not quite the same
when it came to fulfilling their dreams.

With a darkening sky at the end of the dry
as the countryside soaked up the rain,
it brought welcome relief with a long-held belief
that the river would flow once again.
But as Hanrahan said in those words full of dread,
there were times when the rain never stops,
causing rivers to flood and the towns turn to mud
as the farmers were losing their crops.

On The Darling near Bourke where my dad went to work,
there were steamships with paddles astern,
and the holds were all full of their cargo of wool
and the timber they needed to burn.
When the river was low they had nowhere to go
in an era when fleeces were gold,
so they’d wait for the rain to return once again
when the clip could be shipped out and sold.

But those things we have done so The Darling won’t run,
sees the balance of nature implode,
where the fish are found dead and the wildlife has fled
in their search for another abode.
But their search is in vain ‘til the rains come again
to replenish those catchments I know,
where each habitat thrives when the flooding arrives
and those rivers again start to flow.

When we moved to the coast where the people would boast
that the Hastings could never run dry,
with its fast tidal flows and the rains where it rose,
it was easy to understand why.
There were lakes and lagoons with their inlets and dunes
where the sea birds were graceful in flight,
as they followed a mast or a fisherman’s cast,
to a bushy’s unfettered delight.

It was upstream we knew what the Chinaman grew
that were ripening ready to eat,
and a fleet-footed team would float melons downstream
where the catchers would haul in the treat.
It was dangerous fun and the Chinaman’s gun
had a load of saltpetre and lead,
that he’d use if he found there were poachers around,
causing panic and pain as we fled.

As the years wander by, I keep wondering why
we abuse those resources we need,
that the Earth has supplied to sustain and provide
for the billions we now need to feed.
For a country so vast that is changing so fast
with the climatic changes we see,
how we value the few of those rivers I knew
will decide what our future will be.