Washpen Creek

by Daniel Kelly

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If you go down, by washpen creek,
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You better go with a friend.

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For the things that were seen,by washpen creek,
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Have caused many a strong mind to bend.
Jerimiah Mcarthy was down by the creek,
Watching the Davis Sheep,
When a shot from behind, it blew his mind,
Sending him to eternal sleep.

Tom Robinson the drifter, was accused of the crime,
The police sought to hunt him down,
But they needed a blanket, from the grave,
To strengthen the case for the crown.

Four troopers set out, to find the grave,
On a find and sunny day,
As soon as the shovel, it hit the earth,
The sky grew dark and gray.

A crack of thunder, it shook the earth,
A terrible roar was heard,
And a raging white bull, appeared on the hill,
The men said not a word.

The bull it charged, fire in its eyes,
It stopped at McCarthy’s grave.
He raised his head, and let out a cry,
That would curdle the blood of the brave.

The bull dropped dead, the men they fled,
Told their story in the town,
But when others returned, a few days hence,
No trace of the bull was found.

It’s said that Tom, was later caught,
And punished for his crime,
But each night in his cell, he never slept,
As a White Bull ravaged his mind.


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