I'm Back
Posted: Sun Jan 04, 2015 12:29 pm
I’m Back
It sat alone, deserted it’s front facia cracked and worn
paint work peeled in tattered strips, the curtains hung forlorn.
The timbers showed the hardships of the weather blow by blow
the roofing iron in rusting heaps lies buried in the snow.
The old stockyard and railings brought back memories to me
the hustle and the bustle of how things always used to be.
I can hear the horses neighing as the dogs all stand their guard
The cracking of the stock whips as the cattle reach the yard.
The yelling and the shouting from the ringers on the fence
as the new chum rides the outlaw and they laugh at his expense.
The dust and smell of burning as the cleanskins feel the brand
my mother in her moleskins dirt be splattered lends a hand.
The clanging of the cooks bell as he called us all for tea
but we ate out with the ringers my brother Bill and me.
We worked till daylight faded or until the job was done
the work was hard and tough but for us two kids it was fun.
We would sit late in the evening on the front porch in the haze
dreaming of when the rains would come, the sign of better days.
I loved the sound the rain made as it hit the roof of tin
the smell of new grass growing, the thunders deafening din.
We lost the farm when I was young, a lad of just sixteen
three years of drought and hardship destroyed my fathers dream.
The bank foreclosed and left us with no future in our sight
My Dad in sheer despair took his own life that night.
Mum and us we moved to town but her heart was broken to
the nurses at the respite care said there was nothing they could do.
Bill and I went into foster care for we had no family near
but we vowed to stay together that was mothers greatest fear.
I lost Bill in the great war, he did not make it home to me
so I became a wanderer foot loose and fancy free.
I knocked about in stock camps doing jobs that most would dread
the long yard was my only home but it stood me in good stead.
Life’s road was tough and torrid, but success would come at last
I vowed one day I would come home and finish off the task.
I brought the farm and homestead after years out on the track
I hope mum and dad can hear me when I tell the world
“ I’m Back “
Bob Pacey (C)
It sat alone, deserted it’s front facia cracked and worn
paint work peeled in tattered strips, the curtains hung forlorn.
The timbers showed the hardships of the weather blow by blow
the roofing iron in rusting heaps lies buried in the snow.
The old stockyard and railings brought back memories to me
the hustle and the bustle of how things always used to be.
I can hear the horses neighing as the dogs all stand their guard
The cracking of the stock whips as the cattle reach the yard.
The yelling and the shouting from the ringers on the fence
as the new chum rides the outlaw and they laugh at his expense.
The dust and smell of burning as the cleanskins feel the brand
my mother in her moleskins dirt be splattered lends a hand.
The clanging of the cooks bell as he called us all for tea
but we ate out with the ringers my brother Bill and me.
We worked till daylight faded or until the job was done
the work was hard and tough but for us two kids it was fun.
We would sit late in the evening on the front porch in the haze
dreaming of when the rains would come, the sign of better days.
I loved the sound the rain made as it hit the roof of tin
the smell of new grass growing, the thunders deafening din.
We lost the farm when I was young, a lad of just sixteen
three years of drought and hardship destroyed my fathers dream.
The bank foreclosed and left us with no future in our sight
My Dad in sheer despair took his own life that night.
Mum and us we moved to town but her heart was broken to
the nurses at the respite care said there was nothing they could do.
Bill and I went into foster care for we had no family near
but we vowed to stay together that was mothers greatest fear.
I lost Bill in the great war, he did not make it home to me
so I became a wanderer foot loose and fancy free.
I knocked about in stock camps doing jobs that most would dread
the long yard was my only home but it stood me in good stead.
Life’s road was tough and torrid, but success would come at last
I vowed one day I would come home and finish off the task.
I brought the farm and homestead after years out on the track
I hope mum and dad can hear me when I tell the world
“ I’m Back “
Bob Pacey (C)
