Smudger Smith

[ozybstd]

The bar is always crowded and noisy
Friday nights the cockies were in town
Bob Dickie kept wood on the fire
Four big bloody logs heated the public bar
Of the Mount Jeffcott Hotel
Outside it was cold windy and wet

Standing on the hearth holding court
Smudger Smith had done every job T'was always hard
Worked with drongos, in the rain, snow, cyclones and heat
Been the back o' Bourke, over the Snowies, north and south
Friday was his day, talked to all that'd listen
With tales that sometimes hinted of truth

The only bloke to see a fifty foot croc
Cane toad three foot across the shoulders
Shook hands with Smithy, helped him fix his plane
Places and times always changed
Old Smudger would look ya in the eye
Forgetting he'd told ya the tale 50 bloody ways

Ya think it's cold or ya think it's wet
Was always the way Smudger started in winter
Hot and dusty his favourite in summer
The time it snowed in Broken Hill
Rain flooded the Alice
Bulldust flew thick and fast

Five foot eight and nine stone wringing wet
Battered old army hat atop his head
Sleeves always rolled above the elbows
A rolly hangin' from his bottom lip
Glass of Carlton Draught his poison
He was one hell of a character

Came to town about 15 year ago
The wind had blown all bloody week
Dust covered half the town
Fightin' against it for days
Smudger, his horse, dog and 150 head
Of merinos heading to agistment

A hot Wednesday in February
Smudger first breasted the bar
The first beer never touched the sides
Bloody hell it tasted so flamin' good
Spent the afternoon washing away the dust
Tellin' his story to all who'd listen

Slept under the stars that night
His dog, Kitchener, and horse, King George,
Shared a stable at the show grounds
Next day they found a hut and moved in
Bugger bein' a drover, I've had enough
Got a job next door at the race course

[Maureen K Clifford]

Love the yarn but at some time Mate you are going to have to get this rhyming business going so here is another way of looking at it - if that helps well and good - yours to lose or chose. I haven't got the least bit technical with this as far as anything goes apart from the end rhymes

Friday night its cold, windy and wet
at the bar are the regular crowd.
The local Cockies are gathered in town
and the bar’s getting noisy and loud.
Bob Dickie’s keeping the fire aglow
and four logs he’s piled on the fire.
The weather outside might be ten below
but inside Mount Jeffcott it's higher.

Cheers

Maureen

[manfredvijars]

G'day Phil, good that you're posting, you'd definitly 'fit in' anywhere and we're glad that you came 'home' to roost here.

How about having a crack at rhyming some of your pieces?
You are among friends here and there are any number of folks who would lend you a hand if you feel a tad uncertain.

You've taken the first step by putting your thoughts and ideas on paper. Here's an opportunity to strengthen your poet's writing muscle. If you want, let us help you (we are, after all a site for Rhyming poetry) ...

Cheers,

Manfred.