DONE CARTIN'

[Frank Daniel]

DONE CARTIN’
© Frank Daniel Canowindra NSW 27.8.1998

The lure of grey blue distance was ever in my veins,
far horizons beyond my dreaming, a myriad, a haze.
Tall tales of Grandpa hauling wool to Sydney far away
sparked adventure in my soul to follow him some day.

Visioned far-off splendour cast emotions in my youth;
at the end of every rainbow I sought another pot of truth.
Seeking dim horizons through the glimmering distant sheen,
Australia was the landscape, with me part of the scene.

Rear-view mirrors hold fond memories of places I have been;
the vastness of this country: hills and deserts in between.
Seasons came and seasons went like the good folk that I met;
a million miles at thirty — thirst for another million yet.

Friends were there to meet me as I drove from State to State,
and there never was a town in which I didn’t have a mate.
Blokes who likened stories of their histories wide and vast
swapped tale for tale in gratitude for the keeping of the past.

I’ll miss the whining tyres; the good friends along the road,
the scheduled life recorded in my log books load for load.
Over night between the cities, blaring lights across the plains,
battling with the elements, the 'droughts and flooding rains'.

Hassles with the highway cops, fines and blueys in the mail.
‘Scalies’ from the RTA checking weights on measured scale.
The drovers with their hungry mobs, like visions from the past,
the waving arms of children beckoning for an air-horns blast.

Times were good, times were hard; time never once stood still,
fortunes came and fortunes went, part of life's mystic thrill.
But the years have now declined the urge to carry on much more,
the spell I’ve earned is mine to keep, much easier to endure.

My spirit of adventure draws me to greener pastures still,
the banks have got their money back: I’ll seek another thrill.
The time has come to spread my wings; no grief is there in parting,
I’ve no complaints, I’ve done my bit, I’m finished with the carting.