Down The Track
Posted: Fri Dec 07, 2012 2:42 pm
Down The Track
Stephen Whiteside 07.12.2012
It's time I was headin' down the track.
Dunno when I'll be comin' back.
Down the track is where I'll be
If anyone's askin' after me.
Might go this way. Might go that.
Up the hills, or across the flat.
If anybody wants to know...
Dunno yet which way I'll go.
All I know is, I'm headin' out.
You might hear rumours round about
That I've been here or I've been there.
They might be right - or just hot air.
No one knows just where I'll be.
No one knows - not even me.
Might head west. Might head east.
South or north. I've not the least
Idea exactly where I'll plod.
I guess some place will get the nod,
Until I have a change of heart.
It seems a quite exacting art
To walk the track, but then again,
Perhaps it's not. If it should rain,
Then I'll get wet, but if it's hot,
Then I'll get sunburnt, like as not.
I guess I ought to buy a hat
To shield me from the pitter pat
Of rain, or hot rays from the sun.
I'll have no home to which to run.
Think I'll also get new shoes.
Just a cheap pair. What's to lose?
Might just spare me damaged feet
From rocks or sand or cold or heat.
I'll say goodbye to bikes and cars,
And get acquainted with the stars.
I'll turn my back on traffic jams,
On horns and fumes and trains and trams.
I'll boil the billy, toast some bread.
Won't be flash, but I'll be fed.
Quite a healthy thing to do
To pull the belt a notch or two,
And if there's floods or if there's fires,
What unfolds, and what transpires
Is in the hands of God, or then,
Again, perhaps, the hands of men.
Might see mountains, might see lakes,
Might see wombats, might see snakes;
Might find heroes, might find crooks
Hiding in secluded nooks.
Might tread gravel. Might tread grass
Don't know yet which way I'll pass.
Only know I won't come back
When I have headed...down the track.
Stephen Whiteside 07.12.2012
It's time I was headin' down the track.
Dunno when I'll be comin' back.
Down the track is where I'll be
If anyone's askin' after me.
Might go this way. Might go that.
Up the hills, or across the flat.
If anybody wants to know...
Dunno yet which way I'll go.
All I know is, I'm headin' out.
You might hear rumours round about
That I've been here or I've been there.
They might be right - or just hot air.
No one knows just where I'll be.
No one knows - not even me.
Might head west. Might head east.
South or north. I've not the least
Idea exactly where I'll plod.
I guess some place will get the nod,
Until I have a change of heart.
It seems a quite exacting art
To walk the track, but then again,
Perhaps it's not. If it should rain,
Then I'll get wet, but if it's hot,
Then I'll get sunburnt, like as not.
I guess I ought to buy a hat
To shield me from the pitter pat
Of rain, or hot rays from the sun.
I'll have no home to which to run.
Think I'll also get new shoes.
Just a cheap pair. What's to lose?
Might just spare me damaged feet
From rocks or sand or cold or heat.
I'll say goodbye to bikes and cars,
And get acquainted with the stars.
I'll turn my back on traffic jams,
On horns and fumes and trains and trams.
I'll boil the billy, toast some bread.
Won't be flash, but I'll be fed.
Quite a healthy thing to do
To pull the belt a notch or two,
And if there's floods or if there's fires,
What unfolds, and what transpires
Is in the hands of God, or then,
Again, perhaps, the hands of men.
Might see mountains, might see lakes,
Might see wombats, might see snakes;
Might find heroes, might find crooks
Hiding in secluded nooks.
Might tread gravel. Might tread grass
Don't know yet which way I'll pass.
Only know I won't come back
When I have headed...down the track.
It's also bringing out some good poetry from you....I like the poem. 