Tar-Sealing.

They have sealed the road through Kelso bush
And up the mounting grade;
The speeding cars with thunder-rush
Flash through the forest shade.
Where once the old mail-coaches with their gallant teams toiled by,
The roar of open exhausts goes shrieking to the sky.
But still of a night, I have heard them say,
When the wind is from the west,
You may hear a whistle ringing gay
All down the Kelso crest.
And where the eerie shadows pass across the moonless sky,
You may hear the gallant hoof-beats of the old coach-teams go by.

—Joyce West.

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