The Golden Crown Hotel


The Golden Crown Hotel was built in Berriwillock in 1896 by Fairbanks and Wilson from local limestone and bricks which had been made and fired on the  banks of the Tyrrell Creek.

The origin of the name  as legend has it that the name first appeared on a piece of tin nailed on a post in front of the old bag shanty which preceded the present building.

Picture Of The Golden Crown Hotel Taken in 1997

The Old Clock

On the wall, above the bar of the Golden Crown Hotel is a clock older than the pub, and connected with this clock is a strange and fascinating story.

Before the first World War a young boy hurrying to school each morning would pop his head in the door to check the clock for the time making sure he was on time. His name was Frank Kilcullen, when he died  in 1977 And his funeral procession drove past the pub  at that very moment the clock stopped , later it started again of its own accord.

Frank wrote a poem about the Hotel in 1971 (See Below).

Belief is, by the numbers on the back this is a 1887 Seth Thomas Schoolhouse Clock.

 The L stands for December.

The Golden Crown Hotel Poem

Just a tiny little tavern, in a narrow dusty street.

A place where cronies gather, a spot where good friends meet.

Here all men are equal, once they pass inside the door.

And the acid test is mateship, no man is ever poor.

It's a place of noise and laughter, where each must stand a chip.

And listen with words of thanks, to George Willey' s lousy tips.

To settle any arguments, there's never any need to fight.

Roy and Geoff behind the bar, can always put things right.

Around the door the snake pit boys, stand in their spot of old.

And spin the yarns of football games, of premierships untold.

Dave Putland waves his glass around and says, "those were the days".

And Cootey shows the ladies there, he still has his boyish ways.

But life is not all laughter, there's sometimes grief and pain.

And faces that we know so well, we will never see again.

Let's give to others while we can, a cheery word and smile.

Be richer in our brotherhood, and happier all the while.

This small hotel just suits us fine, we want no rich man’s club.

A Merry Christmas everyone, and good luck to Tyson's pub.......

Written By Frank Kilcullen 1971