Time of drought

Droughts they seem as though they never end
The ground, dry, hard and cracked, never-ending
Men they worked alongside their wives
Week after week, unending toil
Wives at home, the men stand around
Empty cattle yards, truck now moving cattle
Down the track to where there is scrub
A dusty trail, blowing dust to
Already parched throats
A drink and then they be off
Before the sun settles
At the pub the 6 o’clock closing
The beer was out
Roads long and dry, as the day is hot
That was the only thing
Thirsty roads

Stockmen with sadden faces

For they knew work was now rare
Throats dry and dusty
Wives waiting forever, work is now rare
For their man to come home
Their stories of life on the road
From station to station
Country pub, wherever you go
Someone will listen
Mood changes when they find a bath tub
Time to hurry get washed neat, and clean
Time to find their way home
After days on a dusty hot trail


2 thoughts on “Time of drought

  1. Love the poem BJ ,could feel the throat dry by the time I finished ! Very ‘Lawson ‘ like in style ,like the The Drovers Wife . Keep them coming



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