Old Bobby
Posted: Sun Jan 28, 2024 8:55 am
Old Bobby
Old Bobby was a boundary rider, from out the back of Bourke
Lived in a time warp, well; that’s because of his work
Not had much contact with, the rest of us outback folk
Knew horses, fencing, and fixing windmills; if broke
Lived a frugal existence, alone with his dog Rhett
Heard of the telephone; not seen one as yet
Night sky was his television, all snuggled up in flannel
Only problem; for city slickers, only one channel
Alone amongst the Mulga, accidents, they do happen
Out in Western Queensland near our station, Cudnappan
Old wild boar wanders out of the scrub, one dark, but moon-lit night
Comes across Bobby asleep, on the ground, gets one hell of a fright
Old Bobby wakes up, sees the threat; and without hesitation
Makes a hell of a noise, while waving both arms, in circular rotation
Wild boar in his haste, to flee away; to escape all this trouble
Tramples all over Bobby and leaves him prone, like a pile of rubble
One broken leg , with cuts and abrasions, he knows he must find help
Or he’ll be facing his maker, much sooner than he’d felt
He fashions a splint, and hobbles alone, along the dusty track
His horse has bolted; and, is not coming back
As luck would have it, we were only six miles away
As he comes up our drive, he’s dazed, and beginning to sway
We help him inside, and tend his immediate needs
Bandage him up, feed him a beer, and offer him a feed
So grateful is he, and how good he must feel
He insists on helping; preparing the evening meal
We try to decline but he says, “No. I’ll be alright”
Comes to the stove, kindling in hand, and sets it all alight
The oven is flaming: but hell, doesn’t he know!
The stoves a gas-one, and she’s ready to blow!
The flash is a blindin’, takes hold his bushy red beard
By the time that’s its out, it’s all black and seared
He’s out the front door, no goodbyes or as such
Never seen a man move so fast, on only one crutch
He cries out aloud without looking back
You could hear him for miles, along the track
Give me the spiders, wild boar, and the snakes
I’ll handle them all; whatever it takes
But one thing as certain, I’ll give you the wrap
Those houses with gadgets are a flamin’ death trap
Ross Daly
Old Bobby was a boundary rider, from out the back of Bourke
Lived in a time warp, well; that’s because of his work
Not had much contact with, the rest of us outback folk
Knew horses, fencing, and fixing windmills; if broke
Lived a frugal existence, alone with his dog Rhett
Heard of the telephone; not seen one as yet
Night sky was his television, all snuggled up in flannel
Only problem; for city slickers, only one channel
Alone amongst the Mulga, accidents, they do happen
Out in Western Queensland near our station, Cudnappan
Old wild boar wanders out of the scrub, one dark, but moon-lit night
Comes across Bobby asleep, on the ground, gets one hell of a fright
Old Bobby wakes up, sees the threat; and without hesitation
Makes a hell of a noise, while waving both arms, in circular rotation
Wild boar in his haste, to flee away; to escape all this trouble
Tramples all over Bobby and leaves him prone, like a pile of rubble
One broken leg , with cuts and abrasions, he knows he must find help
Or he’ll be facing his maker, much sooner than he’d felt
He fashions a splint, and hobbles alone, along the dusty track
His horse has bolted; and, is not coming back
As luck would have it, we were only six miles away
As he comes up our drive, he’s dazed, and beginning to sway
We help him inside, and tend his immediate needs
Bandage him up, feed him a beer, and offer him a feed
So grateful is he, and how good he must feel
He insists on helping; preparing the evening meal
We try to decline but he says, “No. I’ll be alright”
Comes to the stove, kindling in hand, and sets it all alight
The oven is flaming: but hell, doesn’t he know!
The stoves a gas-one, and she’s ready to blow!
The flash is a blindin’, takes hold his bushy red beard
By the time that’s its out, it’s all black and seared
He’s out the front door, no goodbyes or as such
Never seen a man move so fast, on only one crutch
He cries out aloud without looking back
You could hear him for miles, along the track
Give me the spiders, wild boar, and the snakes
I’ll handle them all; whatever it takes
But one thing as certain, I’ll give you the wrap
Those houses with gadgets are a flamin’ death trap
Ross Daly