Grave site query

Another site lists her as Kitty Kane.

These are the lyrics of a song by Margaret Walters.

I came up the Thomson with thousands of others,
When Walhalla's gold worked its wild, shining spell.
I was young, I was pretty, I called myself Kitty,
I offered the best jewels a woman could sell.
A length of fine velvet in well fitting burgundy,
Tight round the curves where a man's eyes would fall,
Lace at the edges and eyes full of laughter,
Oh young Kitty Kane was the pride of them all.

I might take a walk by the wild Thomson River
Where the Mountain Ash rise in the soft, misty rain,
There's gold in the range and there's gold in the memories
Of the lady of pleasure they call Kitty Kane.

* As the wealth from the mining flowed into the valley,
I moved from a shanty up to a hotel.
I'd seen enough squalor, I saved enough silver
To make me a place where I'd play the game well.
Pregnancy, injury, theft and brutality
Threatened and scarred me, again and again,
But in black lace and silver, I waltzed with the miners,
And shone in their vision, for I'm Kitty Kane.

The publican brought a piano from Melbourne,
I could tell you right now, it was never in tune,
But the work-weary diggers came crowding to hear it
When Samson would play in the late afternoon.
On nights when Walhalla lit up like a fire,
And the miners were roaring some boozy refrain,
There would always be eyes lit with lust and desire,
And bright gold for evenings with young Kitty Kane.

There were schemers and sailors and bearded old diggers,
Whose tough, hairy hides had the gravel ground in,
Young men far from home who still needed a mother,
And sad, furtive parsons who needed to sin.
Rough, drunken brutes with the manners of cattle,
Who let me lie bleeding and shaking in pain,
I've served them their drinks while my bruises were healing,
And I laughed and I shone, I was still Kitty Kane.

I've heard the men singing down at the piano,
That youth, it soon passes, and beauty will fade,
But I gave them their pleasure when I was past forty,
It's the light in the eyes made me queen of my trade.
Though Walhalla now is all merchants and farmers,
Whose wives see in me what they think of as shame,
I'll die in this valley with fine, singing memories,
My name's Kitty Kane, I was best in the game.

Peter

We paid Kitty a visit last November and the plaque near here grave calles her Kitty Cane. The story that I had heard, that after she died, the locals drank her possesions away at her wake and then found the going difficult in transporting her to the Abefeldy Cemetry partly due to the smell of a corpse starting to decompose. They decided on burying here where they were. Digging would not hve been easy in that rocky terrain.

Thanks Peter,

Your follow up post sounds more like the person. The grave site is closer to Walhalla than Aberfeldy.

Good song. I've never heard of it.

Many thanks

Kim

That's interesting.

She obviously came from somewhere else rather than Walhalla (as alluded to in the song). Apart from the lack of of sites in Walhalla, it would be interesting to know why she was being transported to Aberfeldy.

Regards

Kim

Thanks Wayne

That's one bloody big woman!

I think we should convince the Walhalla residents to organise an annual Kitty Cane festival and open the proceedings with Margaret Walter's song!

Regards

Kim

Perhaps it could include a bevee of Kitty Cane look alikes. Singing, dancing and other "popular" activities. Put me down for a ticket.

Regards Wayne

Wayne

I shudder to think!

We had a lot of good times in Walhalla before it became a tourist town. Prior to the old pub burning down there was a mongrel of a publican there. This fella was always dressed in a dirty, cigarette burnt singlet and took great delight listening into conversations.

No matter what the talk was about, he'd berate the clientele and tell them they were full of bulltish and crap.

I never had a problem with this because he was always drunk to the eye balls.

However, we took one guy with us on a shooting trip who I didn't know very well. The publican started his usual insults. This fella went out to the car, came back to the pub with a rifle intending to shoot the publican.

Fortunately things calmed down and we left (long story).

Regards

Kim