Everton Upper Primary School No 1198

was first built in 1870. This poem was written just before it closed at the end of 1993.


Back in eighteen-seventy the local folk decided

Their offspring needed guidance and instruction,

They raised a little schoolhouse beside the Beechworth Road,

Simply built - a low walled brick construction.


The children bent their heads down over book and slate and pencil,

Wayward thoughts of playing hookey supressed with inward sigh,

The long day sometimes broken by a bullock team's slow passing,

Smartly mounted troopers,   or foot travellers passing by.


The wild and lonely bushland crowded closely all around them,

Droning voices reading lessons together rose and fell,

Ponies in the paddock stood patiently awaiting

The eager hometime clatter,   the makeshift clanging bell.


The old brick school long gone now,   one built in eighty-three

Served more than sixty years and served us well,

A parade of names recorded in the brittle faded roll books -

If those pages could but talk to us,   what stories they could tell.


Tales of men and women who marched away to war,

Prepared to fight or die in our defence,

Far away from loved ones,   homesick thoughts would fly

To the tiny rural schoolhouse and smiles of childhood friends.


A modern busy roadway has replaced the rough bush track

Trucks and cars instead of horse drawn dray,

If I close my eyes a moment it seems I still can see them,

Those children with their teachers,   and the school of yesterday.


There is still a State School standing where our children learn and


Everton Upper Primary - number One One Ninety-eight,

A new world of computers,   technology and science

Waiting for our youngsters beyond the schoolyard gate.


They will face that future boldly with a confidence instilled

By dedicated teachers with one simple golden rule,

Each child shall know the pleasure of personal achievement,

And will take through life fond memories of this little country