LUCY
Posted: Thu May 26, 2011 8:20 am
This was a piece I wrote some time back that has a very special meaning to me. It was recorded by Tim Bishop who owned Lucy. Tim has just let me know that at 6.30pm on Tuesday 3ist May the ABC show 'Message Stick will have a short segment in it with Lucy as the star of Wanja - the Warrior Dog.
This is Tim's recording of Lucy
http://pool.abc.net.au/media/lucy-audio-tape
LUCY
I had a mate called Lucy, we were friends for fourteen years,
she was the one I told my troubles to, the one I told my fears;
and we traveled miles together 'cross this dry and dusty land -
with her head on my knee, and me with steering wheel in hand.
We shared many a campfire beneath the star lit sky,
heard a Boobook calling, felt the thump of big roos passing by.
Her ears would prick, she'd stare into the dark outside the glow
but my sweet faithful companion from my side would never go.
We've swum in inland waterholes and splashed through muddy creeks.
Gone yellow belly fishing and I learned to speak, dog speak.
But sadly Lucy has gone now – time has carried her away
to the dreaming – where she's young again and once more runs and plays.
And I often sit by waterholes and strum a sad refrain
for my Lucy – will she hear me if I still call out her name?
And oft times I feel a presence – like a shadow passing by
or I catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.
I reckon it's my mate Lucy, my friend of fourteen years
whose memory is with me – sharing my troubles and fears.
We still travel miles together through this countries arid parts.
Only difference, I'm still driving – Lucy's resting in my heart.
Maureen
Clifford © 08/10
This is Tim's recording of Lucy
http://pool.abc.net.au/media/lucy-audio-tape
LUCY
I had a mate called Lucy, we were friends for fourteen years,
she was the one I told my troubles to, the one I told my fears;
and we traveled miles together 'cross this dry and dusty land -
with her head on my knee, and me with steering wheel in hand.
We shared many a campfire beneath the star lit sky,
heard a Boobook calling, felt the thump of big roos passing by.
Her ears would prick, she'd stare into the dark outside the glow
but my sweet faithful companion from my side would never go.
We've swum in inland waterholes and splashed through muddy creeks.
Gone yellow belly fishing and I learned to speak, dog speak.
But sadly Lucy has gone now – time has carried her away
to the dreaming – where she's young again and once more runs and plays.
And I often sit by waterholes and strum a sad refrain
for my Lucy – will she hear me if I still call out her name?
And oft times I feel a presence – like a shadow passing by
or I catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.
I reckon it's my mate Lucy, my friend of fourteen years
whose memory is with me – sharing my troubles and fears.
We still travel miles together through this countries arid parts.
Only difference, I'm still driving – Lucy's resting in my heart.
Maureen
Clifford © 08/10