I often think of straight, Lanky Dan, 
   A fossicker whate'er fate might bequeath him; 
A grim and grizzled worshipper of "pan," 
   Who deemed all other industries beneath him.

 
Bare-boned and hard, with thin, long hair and beard, 
   With horny hands that gripped like iron pliers; 
A clear, quick eye, a heart that nothing feared, 
   A soul full simple in its few desires. 


No hot, impatient amateur was Dan, 
   Sweating to turn the slides up every minute - 
He knew beforehand how his stuff would pan, 
   Could tell by instinct almost what was in it. 


I've known his stand for hours, and rock, and rock, 
   Swinging now the shovel, now the ladle, 
So sphinx-like that at time he seemed to mock, 
   Resolved to run creation through his cradle. 


And when the sun burned fiercely like a flame, 
   Or when the rain ran dancing on the river, 
He chruned the wash or cradled on the same - 
   For cold and heat alike Dan thanked the Giver. 


No sun-shafts pricked him through his seasoned hide, 
   Nor cold nor damp could bend his form heroic; 
Bare-breasted Dan the elements defied, 
   And met all fortunes like a hoary Stoic. 


Where there were tailings, tips, and mangled fields, 
   And sluggish, sloven creeks meandering slowly; 
Where puddlers old and sluice-sites promised yields, 
   There Lanky might be found, contented wholly. 


E'en tho' they'd worked the field, as Chinese do, 
   Had "bulled" each shaft and scraped out every gutter, 
Burnt every stick, and put the ashes through, 
   Yet Dan contrived to knock out bread and butter, 


And something for a dead-broke mate - such men 
   As Dan have little love for filthy lucre; 
His luxury was a whisky now and then, 
   And now and then a friendly game of euchre. 


They tell me he is dead: ‘On top? That's so, 
   Died at the handle, mate, which is accordin' 
As he should die, an' if you're good you'll know 
   Dan's pannin' prospects in the River Jordan.’ 

"E.D."
The Bulletin, 16 April 1892, p11

Note:
This poem was published in slightly different form in Dyson's poetry collection Rhymes From the Mines and Other Lines.