The Drought

[Bob Pacey]

THE DROUGHT

On the old outback selection
it had not rained for years.
The land was so dry and dusty brown
it would drive a man to tears.

For fifteen years or maybe more
the farm had struggled on,
they prayed to hear rain on the roof
to hear it's drumming song .

The squatters son was fifteen years
but a storm he'd never seen.
He'd never felt the rains cool touch
or seen the country green.

So when the rain began to fall
the lad felt fancy free,
out in the storm he danced a jig
he twirled and jumped with glee.

He ran around he shouted loud
his joy he could not hide.
The rain came down in bucketful's
it tumbled down his side.

He slipped, he slid, he jumped for joy
this wonder to behold.
His dad had always told him
that any rain was just like gold.

But his dad stayed under cover
and he looked in such a state.
He waved his arms and shouted loud
as his son swung on the gate.

He shouted back "what is it dad
what's it that troubles you?"
He sloshed, he slid, he splashed and cheered
he didn't have a clue.

"Come back inside" his father yelled
"Out of the rain" he cried
"But I'm only getting wet" he said
"My cloths will soon be dried."

"Oh stone the crows" his dad yelled back
"Stop your bloody jumping round
your keeping all the bloody rain
off me bloody ground".

Bob Pacey ( C )