Sunday, Jan 21, 2007 at 16:25
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
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