Bush life is rather quiet to the working class at least,
and we don't get much sensation down at Ohakune East.
But our peace was badly fractured on the 29th of June,
For the news had come upon us like the burst of a balloon
That the Chinamen went shooting when the ground was white with frost
Had somehow got separated, and that poor old Chan was lost;

Ohakune East is now called "The Junction." On the day of King George V’s coronation at Westminster Abbey, the 29th June, 1911, a Chinese storekeeper and his nephew went hunting pigeons in the snow-covered forest below today's Old Coach Road. 40-year-old Chan Yin ran a grocery store for the timber and railway workers, and his nephew, 22-year-old Tommy Chan, managed Chan Yin's billiards saloon.

So the bushmen got their rifles, and they put their oilskins on
And invited every one they met to come and look for John.
And a huge crowd soon assembled to take part in the search,
And they started on this mission amid rimu, pine and birch;

Some were used to open country, some at home within the bush,
While others would be better firing cannons off the cush.

But the Benbows and Bill Tucker knowing every leaf and bough,
Utilised both mind and muscle to locate the missing Chow.
And the public speculated that 'twould be one of those three
Who'd return before the sun went down with the popular Chinee.

They found where poor Chan spent the night, the fresh prints of his feet
And the silver off some chocolates which was all he had to eat;
They shouted out and cooee-ed, then they listened for reply,
But the lost one did not hear them, though he must have been close by
With whistles, guns and shouting, they made a dreadful din,
But with all their search and signals they could not locate Chan Yin.

The night was fast approaching with their searching all in vain,
So each one found himself compelled to start for home again;
But some three or four sat chatting on Gamman's loco' line,
Telling yarns to one another, regardless of the time.
It seems an act of providence that they remained so late,
For all were of the opinion that poor Chan had met his fate.

Gamman's locomotive line ran up into the forest below the Old Coach Road.

They heard a distant gun-shot and cooee-ed in reply,
Then they listened for a moment, and they heard a faint Al-i.
Then through bungas, logs and bushes, they hurried to the place
And found him almost frozen with a smile upon his face.
He had one boot off and one boot on, and hadn't much to say.
He had thrown his rifle, and his birds, and cartridges away.


They took the wet and muddy clothes all off the frozen man,
And took their own clothes off their backs and put them on to Chan;
And I'm proud that I am living in a district where we can
Find someone who'll take off their clothes to warm their fellow man;

Then each one there in turn helped to "piggy-back" him home,
and tried to cheer and comfort the subject of this poem.
They saddled up George Arnott and Chan Yin took his seat,
And he said that Arnott's paces would be very hard to beat;

Then they put him on to Flannel and then the fun began,
He did his best to pig-jump, but he couldn't throw old Chan
Who rode him rather reckless through the thistles, logs and burrs,
And I'm sure a record would be broke if Chan had had his spurs.

Then Peddar put him on his back, and started with his load,
And Chan Yin sat him like a bird, from there out to the road.
He stuck to everyone in turn, and quite enjoyed the ride,
He said Jim Blackburn's very rough when altering his stride;
Alf Kay shyed rather badly at the sight of Gamman's shed,
But he made the pace a cracker when Chan gave him his head;

They told him that he'd soon be home and there be put to rights,
And he looked as if he needed it, as we faced the station lights;
Then they asked him if he savvied Charlie Fisher's big hotel
And I think if Chan could answer, he would say, "not very well!"
But they carried him on quickly, and his pulse was beating wild,
As they carried him inside at last, to his anxious wife and child.

The neighbours got a basin, and they first washed off the mud
Then they rubbed his limbs and body for to circulate the blood.
They gave him food and brandy; they put him in his bed;
And they heaped the blankets on him, but he lay there like the dead
(Had he spent another evening where the pines and pigeons grow
He would now be over yonder, where we all must some day go).

The pinecones of our southern pines or podocarps - kahikatea, rimu, totara etc - evolved to lose the scales over their seeds while at the same time their centre stalk became juicy. These 'berries' were food for the pigeons that also ate the seeds and thus spread the trees.

Then they gave a few directions for attention by-and-bye,
And Missus Chan Yin answered each instruction with Al-i.
He kept his bed for quite a time, and had many an ache and pain
'Ere he could rise and venture out, to use his limbs again;

He spoke of his adventures to his children and his wife,
And was grateful to the searchers whom he knew had saved his life;
He offered a reward to those who found him I've been told,
And they only joked the matter off, and would not take his gold;

But he said he was determined their kindness to repay,
He'd give a banquet to his friends, the following Saturday.
He hired the Gamman Employees' Hall, just opposite the mill
And sent us invitation cards to come and have our fill.

And some seventy or eighty responded to his call,
And the tables creaked with good things as we stepped inside the hall.
There were many nationalities, well represented there,
Ana we started operations with Ritchie in the chair.
He said our host was glad to see so many smiling faces
And invited every mother's son to kindly take their places;

So we slackened out our belts a hole, and each one took his chair,
And you talk about a supper; well, I'll tell you what was there:
There were sandwiches and cigarettes, and current buns, and beer,
Queen cakes, sponge and pound cakes, and lollies too; oh dear!
You should have seen the sausage rolls, I fancy still I can,
And bottles of Scotch whisky, for to drink the health of Chan,

There were oranges and apples and bananas there that night,
And the soft drinks that he turned on, I tell you were alright;
There were dainties there, I'm sure, to suit the palate of each man
Some say that Chinamen are mean - you can't say that of Chan.

Then Ritchie honoured new King George, the Ruler over all,
And the boys with flowing glasses, soon responded to his call.
We sang the National Anthem that we'd often sung before,
And we raised our glasses empty, and held them out for more.

King George V - he had been newly crowned the day Chan got lost.
The national anthem was God Save the King. God Defend NZ did not become our national anthem until 1979.

While the waiters charged our glasses, which took a brace of shakes,
We also made a murderous charge upon the sandwiches and cakes.
A guest then rose to sing a song amidst a loud applause,
And he got a good reception from the crowd of wagging jaws;

Then someone soon proposed the health of Chan our smiling host,
And with the din of cheering it beat King George's toast;
We stood with flowing glasses of whisky, beer and gin,
I heard a clink of glasses, and a chorus of "Chan Yin"
When I heard a general gurgle and then a stamp of feet,
Then I knew it all was over, and again I took my seat!

Then someone sang another song, it was "English Bill," I think;
Then each lit up a cigarette, and had another drink.
Then we drank the health of Benbows, and the searchers one and all;
In fact we drank the health of those who never searched at all!

And the speakers were quite jolly as they gave their short address,
And we drank to local industries, the Town Board and the Press;
Then our host got up and thanked those (in a few but grateful words)
Who had brought about his rescue when lost out shooting birds,
And we were glad that we had snatched him from Jordan's golden brink
So we cheered him in chorus; then we had another drink.

We had songs and recitations, clog-dances and break-downs
And it beat the comic operas which I've seen in bigger towns.
A phonograph was switched on, and announced a song, I think,
When the singer was invited to "come and have a drink!"

We sang of Jacob's Ladder and the Old Bridge by the Mill,
While some danced Maori hakas - you could not keep us still;
Some spoke of their relations, who were rolling in great wealth,
and of course we had to listen, or perhaps to drink their health.

But each one had a good time, and as we strolled away,
We all felt that we would like to find old Chan Yin every day.
I've tried to do this into verse; I've done the best I can,
and wind up now with