"LOVE YOU DADDY"
Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 2:52 pm
I had posted an earlier version of this poem some months ago, then I removed it for a bit of a polish.
"LOVE YOU DADDY"
Sue Pearce© 2012
The farmer shook the swagman's hand and farewelled his old mate,
then watched him slowly disappear beyond the stockyard gate.
He had no notion this would be the last time Mack would call,
he'd never shake his hand again, nor hear the swagman's drawl.
Old Mack had travelled many miles through dust and heat and flies,
in search of work, and in return, a humble few supplies.
A dab hand as a shearer, he worked hard at what he knew,
a harmless drifter, Mack was known as honest, fair and true.
He had a warm inviting smile. His heart was made of gold,
but, underneath that weathered brow, the truth remained untold.
At "smoko" on that final day, his story would unwind,
he poured his heart out to his friend, unleashed his troubled mind.
"When I was young I fell in love, a love beyond compare,
my heart was like a summer breeze, it drifted on the air.
Our love was incomparable, she swept me off my feet,
a baby soon was on the way, our love was now complete.
I went to see her father, asked him for his daughter's hand,
I told him that I loved her and I planned a wedding band.
Her father wouldn't hear of it, he said our love was wrong,
he told me I was "unrefined" and that "you don't belong".
I kept a vigil by her door, I tried to comprehend,
the reasons he had banished me and why our love should end.
Then I received a letter, and the tears I couldn't hide,
it read "you have a daughter but, my love for you has died".
My heart was now in pieces and I cried for days on end,
I asked if I could see my child, my rights I would defend.
But money speaks the loudest words, I walked away, alone,
and left behind a small child's love, a love, I've never known.
That final day the postman brought a picture in a frame,
a photo of a small child's face with eyes that wore my name.
At last I had an image I could carry in my mind,
and to this day that's all I have, the rest, I left behind."
The farmer sat in silence; as the old man wiped his tears,
for now he knew the burden Mack had carried all these years.
Then Mack produced a photo of a small angelic face,
the image he had carried, with each mile it had kept pace.
Then Mack began to speak again, this time a softer voice,
he said ''If I could turn back time I'd make a different choice.
I've yearned to hold her in my arms, to hear her laugh and play,
and words like "Love You daddy" what I'd give to hear her say".
But that was many years ago, four decades, maybe more,
for time had ceased to matter much the day he closed the door.
The swagman stood and shook the farmers hand and bid "good day",
then hoisted up his trusty swag, and soon was on his way.
Old Mack was on the road again and grateful to his friend,
he felt a weight was lifted, maybe now his heart would mend.
His friend had paid him well with extra rations in his roll,
he'd set up camp, rebuild his strength, hard work had taken toll.
That night he bedded early for his body needed rest,
his eyes caressed the photo he'd held cradled to his breast.
He gazed upon the heavens and let out a gentle sigh,
the last breath he would ever take, beneath a starry sky.
That's where his friend would find him in the early light of day,
he rushed and knelt beside him crying "Mack, are you OK?.
No words would fill the silence_ not a movement_ not a breath_
from the body of the swagman, who had died a gentle death.
The farmer took a moment for his mind was in a whirl,
he noticed near the body lay the image of the girl.
A voice erupted from him, crying "Lord, he's been through hell,
please help me find his daughter; bring her back to say farewell".
The final words were spoken, mourners turned and slowly left,
a sad and lonely figure by Mack's grave stood, so bereft.
The farmer whispered softly "He would be so proud of you".
The words upon the headstone "Love You Daddy, Wish I knew".
"LOVE YOU DADDY"
Sue Pearce© 2012
The farmer shook the swagman's hand and farewelled his old mate,
then watched him slowly disappear beyond the stockyard gate.
He had no notion this would be the last time Mack would call,
he'd never shake his hand again, nor hear the swagman's drawl.
Old Mack had travelled many miles through dust and heat and flies,
in search of work, and in return, a humble few supplies.
A dab hand as a shearer, he worked hard at what he knew,
a harmless drifter, Mack was known as honest, fair and true.
He had a warm inviting smile. His heart was made of gold,
but, underneath that weathered brow, the truth remained untold.
At "smoko" on that final day, his story would unwind,
he poured his heart out to his friend, unleashed his troubled mind.
"When I was young I fell in love, a love beyond compare,
my heart was like a summer breeze, it drifted on the air.
Our love was incomparable, she swept me off my feet,
a baby soon was on the way, our love was now complete.
I went to see her father, asked him for his daughter's hand,
I told him that I loved her and I planned a wedding band.
Her father wouldn't hear of it, he said our love was wrong,
he told me I was "unrefined" and that "you don't belong".
I kept a vigil by her door, I tried to comprehend,
the reasons he had banished me and why our love should end.
Then I received a letter, and the tears I couldn't hide,
it read "you have a daughter but, my love for you has died".
My heart was now in pieces and I cried for days on end,
I asked if I could see my child, my rights I would defend.
But money speaks the loudest words, I walked away, alone,
and left behind a small child's love, a love, I've never known.
That final day the postman brought a picture in a frame,
a photo of a small child's face with eyes that wore my name.
At last I had an image I could carry in my mind,
and to this day that's all I have, the rest, I left behind."
The farmer sat in silence; as the old man wiped his tears,
for now he knew the burden Mack had carried all these years.
Then Mack produced a photo of a small angelic face,
the image he had carried, with each mile it had kept pace.
Then Mack began to speak again, this time a softer voice,
he said ''If I could turn back time I'd make a different choice.
I've yearned to hold her in my arms, to hear her laugh and play,
and words like "Love You daddy" what I'd give to hear her say".
But that was many years ago, four decades, maybe more,
for time had ceased to matter much the day he closed the door.
The swagman stood and shook the farmers hand and bid "good day",
then hoisted up his trusty swag, and soon was on his way.
Old Mack was on the road again and grateful to his friend,
he felt a weight was lifted, maybe now his heart would mend.
His friend had paid him well with extra rations in his roll,
he'd set up camp, rebuild his strength, hard work had taken toll.
That night he bedded early for his body needed rest,
his eyes caressed the photo he'd held cradled to his breast.
He gazed upon the heavens and let out a gentle sigh,
the last breath he would ever take, beneath a starry sky.
That's where his friend would find him in the early light of day,
he rushed and knelt beside him crying "Mack, are you OK?.
No words would fill the silence_ not a movement_ not a breath_
from the body of the swagman, who had died a gentle death.
The farmer took a moment for his mind was in a whirl,
he noticed near the body lay the image of the girl.
A voice erupted from him, crying "Lord, he's been through hell,
please help me find his daughter; bring her back to say farewell".
The final words were spoken, mourners turned and slowly left,
a sad and lonely figure by Mack's grave stood, so bereft.
The farmer whispered softly "He would be so proud of you".
The words upon the headstone "Love You Daddy, Wish I knew".
