From Windsor to Putty in the back of a ute
There left 3 walkers of ill-repute
With their bellies warm and the look of forlorn
They set off from Putty at the stroke of dawn
They followed the fire trails to long Wheeny Creek
While tracked by a farmer shooting at their feet
But up on a ridge they scrambled away
And found a cave in which to stay
The morning was cool, there was ice on a pool
Their fingers were cold and numb
But they got to Wollemi shivering ‘how cold am I’
And lit a fire and lazed in the sun
It was slow on the Colo because they didn’t have lilos
And the scrub was thick and wet
But at the junction they had a good luncheon
And stayed to watch the sun as it set
Climbing onto Cameron with sandflies as companions
They struggled up a tricky pass
Down came a boulder brushing Roger on the shoulder
Who swore at Bert for his lack of class
Amongst the labyrinth of pagodas and creeks
They could have explored for many weeks
But the days were short and they could have got caught
If it wasn’t for Doug being not very short
Within a canyon which they called Fred
With constriction confined to a ledge
A gush of water left them shorter
So retreat they must through that icy water
As the sun went down they climbed around
To a gully all covered in scrub
They used their rope on the very steep slope
But slid to the bottom like a cake of soap
next day…
They were due home this very day
So they walked hard eating lunch on the way
The storm clouds gathered and there was a temperature drop
But this wouldn’t stop this SUBW crop
then suddenly…
There came from Bell the cry of ‘hell’
As the bushwalkers missed the train
The time had passed it was the very last
And they must spend the night in the rain
While warm at home, Search and Rescue called on the phone
Some young’uns had lost their way
They said, ‘it’s between Putty and Bell they went astray’
But we said, ‘no bloody way! That’s where they’ll have to stay’