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~~~ Fear ~~~
I have this fear inside of me,
And I don't, know what to do.
The dreams I dream are dreams of fear,
As I, re-live the past a-new.
So!
How do I stop these dreams I dream?
That makes me cry with fear.
I'd hoped those dreams would fade away,
With each passing year.
But!
Those dreams they just keep coming back,
To forget them, I have tried.
They keep repeating and telling me,
It is I who should have died.
And!
All those mates that stood by me,
They all are dead but one.
They either died by their own hand,
Or by an others gun.
Now!
Their faces haunt me in my dreams,
The ones, that I saw die.
I made a pact with those who lived,
And I didn't even try.
You see!
I owe my life to all those mates,
And I promised, to be there.
If they ever needed help,
I'd be there no matter where.
I!
Really have I've let them down,
They called, I never heard.
I broke the pact, I failed them,
I never kept my word.
So!
Am I to pay for what I've done,
For letting down a mate.
With dreams that haunt, forever more,
Is that to be my fate?
June 1, 1998
~~ 154 ~~
~~~ The Boxin' Troupe ~~~
By crikey mate I've had enough,
Ya' tell me that, you was in the ring,
I tell ya' straight, me drunkin' mate,
I was up in central Queensland,
When I saw this bloke a'comin,
He said, "G'day, how are ya',"
Me Billy it was boilin',
He told me he's a bantamweight,
He raved about his father,
He said he fought with Snowy Baker,
I said to 'im, "Ya' like the rest,
Then, he put his hand into his swag,
"That's Snowy Baker, he is me dad,
Those boxin' days are gone now,
The Baker boys were famous,
It's really sad to think about,
He finished of his cuppa tea,
I watched him as he walked away,
August 4, 1998
~~ 156 ~~
~~~ The Bastard From The Bush ~~~
I wake up every morning,
Those kookaburra's, they come to see,
Then the maggies come, and join the queue,
They're not afraid or scared of me,
We are the best of bloomin' mates,
They keep an eye, on me camp,
When I go and get me stores,
They taunt me with their nasty ways,
But, the funny thing about those birds,
I s'pose that's why I love the bush,
August 8, 1998
~~ 169 ~~
~~~ Krackatinni's Kingdom ~~~
My Kingdom, struth mate, I've got the biggest Kingdom in the world,
There ain't no doors or windows, or bars to keep ya' out,
By crickey mate, kangaroos are here, to guard the flamin' gate,
But the best thing here, is, that every thing is free,
'Cos I'll tell ya' why directly, when I can find the words,
Australia is me Kingdom mate! And we've had a lot of strife,
There's been wars we're fought across the seas, and we left our dead behind,
Those men belonged to our great land, and some were only boys,
And what about those others, who tried their level best,
The one's of which I speak of, are the one's who blazed the tracks,
They opened up this Kingdom that belongs to you and me,
So, we must all pull together, to save this Kingdom mate,
A Kingdom, you say a Kingdom, Australia is our Kingdom,
There is black and white and yellow, all of different race,
It's time to fight to keep our Kingdom free, let's do it tooth and nail
The kangaroo's will fight for sure, so will the crocodile,
We've got an army full of animals, some big, and some are small,
So! If you must attack us, do it please with care,
September 2, 1998
~~ 172 ~~
~~~ China ~~~
It was sixty-two, I think it was,
I'd come in on a Redline bus,
Anyways, it was June I think,
Me mate who lived in Alice Springs,
He said he had found me a job,
I didn't know a flamin' soul,
Then he said that if I liked,
I said no thanks and wandered off,
I finally found a place to stay,
Me mate he stayed in Darwin,
I went up to the railway yards,
The work was pretty easy,
The best time was at shuntin' time,
'Cos we'd have to clean up all the stuff,
We'd open up the good ones,
Perishables now they were good,
Then, I got work at layin' bricks,
And I usta' drink at Underdowns,
I made good friends, with a little bloke,
The Lutheran Church that ran the place,
I said I'd sell the stuff for him,
We made a deal and stuck to it,
They called me china, 'cos I was their mate
I lived in The Alice for quite sometime,
September 20, 1998
~~ 173 ~~
~~~ The Death of Gerald Fly ~~~
His white-mans name was Gerald Fly,
Now, Gerald he was gettin' on,
They'd all come here searchin' for,
Old Gerald he would take 'em,
The last time that they come here,
The elders of the tribe that held,
Now, Gerald he just scoffed at them,
He headed off with those blokes,
The leader of those Sydney blokes,
They was headin' west from Hermannsburg,
Gerald said that he could hear,
Those bloke from Sydney panicked,
Gerald looked like death warmed up,
The wimin' started wailin',
They took him to the doctors,
This story's true I tell ya',
"Let this be a lesson,
Those last words that he said to me,
September 27, 1998
~~ 174 ~~
~~~ Mate Ship ~~~
Have ya' ever been to Alice Springs,
Or been wet and stuck at Chinaman's Creek,
Or stuck and bogged at Aileron,
Or been as far as Three Ways,
Or have ya' headed east to Isa,
'Cos they could not cross the dusty plains,
But I've seen 'em out there drivin' till,
They'd keep pushin' till they all became
I've seen as many as thirty trucks
Then along came number thirty two
And on and on they'd push and pull,
Those truckies stuck together mate,
But of course, those days are gone,
Our Anzacs fought for this great land,
So it makes ya' really wonder,
September 28, 1998
~~ 175 ~~
~~~ The Destiny of Man ~~~
I'll tells ya' all a story,
I met him in the outback,
Had I met him just by luck?
He told me he could break a roo,
"But circus' are buggered now,"
"And the kids these days, don't get a chance,
"It's just one, of the many things,
"That's why I'm here in the scrub,
"The animals here in the scrub,
"They treat me like an equal,
October 3, 1998
Of all ya' cock and bull,
The only time ya' think ya' tough,
Is when ya', bloody well half full.
And ya' fought, the Bakers and the Barns,
Ya' rant and rave of what ya' done,
I'm gettin' tired of ya' yarns.
It was the year of fifty-two,
So shut ya' trap and listen,
To these words I'll tell to you.
Camped right on Coopers Creek,
I was nearly out of tucker,
I'd been stuck there for a week.
With a swag upon his back,
And I couldn't help but notice,
That his skin was kinda' black.
I said, "How do ya' do,
Take a seat and rest ya' feet,
Sit down and have a brew."
So I threw some tea leaves in,
Then, just like a pack of sheila's,
He started, to wag his flamin' chin.
When fightin' in the ring,
And he used to flattin' heavyweights,
The songs this bloke could sing.
Who knew just how to fight,
And the time he went 200 round,
That ended well into the night.
And he sounded just like you,
I said to him to shut his gob,
And drink his flamin' brew.
Ya' lie right through ya' teeth,
Ya' better get ya' stories straight,
Before they bring ya' grief."
And said, "I'll not take ya' for a ride,"
He shoved a picture in me face,
And his chest it swelled with pride.
And that's his boxin' troupe,
And there is me, upon his knee,
In the middle of that group."
So is that travellin' show,
Where you could win five flamin' quid,
If you were game, to have a go.
Through out this great big land,
And many men would give their souls,
Just to shake their hand.
The way things are today,
Have we forgot, those great men,
Those men of yesterday.
And threw his swag upon his back,
He said to me, "At least we're free,"
Then he headed down the track.
And watched, till he was out of sight,
And I thought about my emptiness,
As I waited for the night.
To the cackle of those birds,
Sitting high up in that gum tree,
It the sweetest sound I've heard.
Me rise'in from me swag,
And they watch me cook me tucker up,
In me clothes that look like rags.
And they watch me as I eat,
They fly to the ground, and walk right up,
To grab the food from round my feet.
'Cos they know I'll do no harm,
I mesmerise and hypnotise,
Them, with my old bush charm.
I guess I shouldn't brag, but,
I never go and rob their nests,
And they, don't rob my tucker bag
For scorpions and snakes,
And in return I keep them fed,
With fresh baked johnny cakes.
From that big shop in the town,
The young folk they all laugh at me,
While the others they just frown.
They poke at me and push,
They yell at me and call me,
That old bastard from the bush.
Is, they really do not care,
If ya're just a old bush bastard,
Or ya' are a millionaire.
And for the city I have no care,
'Cos that is where, the bastards live,
And you'll, never get me there.
Well I'll tell ya', I've got everything a man could ever want here.
And if ya' ever visit here, you'll know there is no doubt.
There's wallaroos, cookin' stew, and koala's cookin' cakes.
And everybody's smilin', cept' maybe two or three.
But I doubt they'd know the reason, 'cos to them is sounds absurd.
And I'll tell ya' straight, me china plate, I'll guard it with me life.
If we go back to visit them, their graves we'll never find,
Now they lay in some strange place, their dreams were all destroyed,
To beat this God forsaken land, when put unto the test.
Across the mighty mountains, into our great outback.
But if we fail to guard it right, there'll be nothing left you see.
And we'd better start to do it soon, before it is too late.
Where everybody's equal, no matter where they're from.
But some of those, will try like heck, to destroy our bonzer place.
'Cos there's has never been an Aussie yet, known to have failed.
The koala bear will join the fray, and do it all in style.
But, they'll help protect this Kingdom, when answering to the call.
'Cos we have the power to resist, so try it if you dare.
When I first, lobbed into Alice,
I was fourteen flamin' years of age,
A lad, without any hate or malice.
That took ten days from Port Augusta,
The bloody thing broke down more times,
Than an old gray mare at muster.
The place was freezin' cold,
There was snow on the Macdonald's,
Well, that's the story I was told.
Had gone to Darwin for a week,
He was s'pose to meet me here,
So now I'm up the creek.
Workin' at the railway yards,
I was to start last flamin' week,
Now that bus had made that hard.
I had no where to go,
So, I asked a cop, what should I do,
He said he didn't know.
I could bunk down in a cell,
But I'd have to share the cell with those,
Who'd been drunk, and played merry bloody hell.
To find a place to camp,
And everyone they looked at me,
Like I was a flamin' tramp.
At three pound ten a week,
I never really had much dough,
So things looked pretty bleak.
'Cos he was never seen again,
At least not here in Alice Springs,
So my hopes went down the drain.
To try and get that job,
And I got a job at casual rates,
Each hour at fifteen bob.
There was never much to do,
And I made a lot of real good friends,
And we never had a blue.
'Cos we'd leave stuff stacked up high,
When they shunted they'd all fall down,
And boy that made us cry.
That broke and came undone,
And usually it was grog and food,
By gees we'd have some fun.
The bottles that weren't broke,
We'd drink'em up then smash 'em,
By cripes it was a joke.
'Cos we'd eat up all the fruit,
Until one day we all got caught,
And got the flamin' boot.
That I'd never done before,
And mixin' up the morta' mate,
Was a bastard of a chore.
Out back with all the blacks,
'Cos ya' know'd, that I was underaged,
And if caught I'd get the sack.
He came from out Palm Valley way,
And he was good at paintin' stuff,
So I went there, with him one day.
Did a pretty lousy job,
They sold his paintin' for lots of quid's,
And gave him a couple of bob.
And I'd take ten percent,
And I'd teach him how to count his dough,
So he'd know I wasn't bent.
And I kept me flamin' word,
So all the blacks they trusted me,
When the name, "china", it was heard.
I was one of them you see,
I never robbed or stole from them,
And I treated them just like me.
And was shown things that few do see,
And I'll always cherish the years I had,
With me mates, just them and me.
But he was flamin' black,
And each time they come from Sydney town,
He'd take 'em all outback.
He was close to eighty-five,
And each time they come from Sydney town,
That trip, would keep old Gerald alive.
That famed and fabled reef,
The one, that was found by Lasseter,
And had brought many men to grief.
Every year, when June come 'round,
Out past Docker River,
To look, for that golden ground.
Was in nineteen sixty eight,
That's when they sent old Gerald,
To his sad and woeful fate.
The ground, where that reef did lay,
Told Gerald to give up the search,
Or they'll point the bone that day.
He said, "I'm not from your plurry tribe,
And ya' cannot point ya' bone at me,
'Cos I's always stay's alibe."
That come from Sydney town,
And the only thing that Gerald wore,
Was a sort of worried frown.
Told Gerald not to fear,
'Cos they had lots of fire sticks,
If those elders came too near.
Towards the western plains,
When Gerald started to complain,
'Bout gettin' aches and pains.
Them singin' him to die,
He told those blokes from Sydney Town,
It was, the end of Gerald Fly.
And headed back to Alice Springs,
'Cos they wasn't really sure,
Who else that they would sing.
When they got him into town,
His family took one look at him,
And made this God-for-sakin' sound.
The men and kids began to cry,
'Cos they knew, not what to do,
Old Gerald he would die.
Who shoved him into bed,
And before the doc could help him out,
Old Gerald he was dead.
'Cos Gerald, was me friend,
And these are the words, he told to me,
When he was at his end.
To those who tempt their fate,
Listen to your elders,
Before it is too late."
I've remembered all me days,
And I have listened to me elders,
And to the words they've had to say.
When the rain is tumblin' down,
Have ya' ever seen the ragin' Todd,
Flood half the flamin' town.
With the water six feet deep,
And haven't found a place to camp,
That's dry enough to sleep.
With mud up to ya' arse,
Without a shovel or a spade,
Or a flamin' bit of grass.
And gone into the Pub
To be told, "There ain't no food,
'Cos the flood washed out the grub".
On that dirty, muddy track,
And ran into some road trains,
That had started headin' back.
That had turned to mud and slime,
And they'd have to wait at Three Ways
Till, the weather it turned fine.
The first one it came bogged,
Then the next it came and pushed it through,
With a length of flamin' log.
The longest road train in the land,
And to watch those truckies push and pull,
It made a bloke feel grand,
All stuck there at one time,
And watched as number thirty one
Push the first one through that slime.
And joined in pushin' too,
So when number one was on dry land,
He could pull through number two.
That would take all day and night,
Till every truck was through that bog,
It was the greatest sight.
To help each other out,
They really knew just what to do,
And what mate-ship was all about.
When we helped a bloke in strife,
The people that live here today.
Would rather stick ya' with a knife.
They'd not give up the ghost,
And the bugler he remembers,
At the sound of his last post.
Where have our values gone,
And ya' wonder if, things will change,
With the coming of the dawn.
About a bloke that I once knew,
He couldn't drive a motor car,
But he could ride a kangaroo.
East of Tennent Creek,
And I knew this bloke pretty well,
'Cos I fed him for a week.
Or was it really fate?
Anyway, it doesn't matter,
So I won't procrastinate.
Regardless of it's age,
And he did it for a circus,
To earn a steady wage.
He said with half a frown,
"'Cos the greenies make it hard for them,
Each time they come to town."
To see, the circus's of old,
'Cos the animal liberationists tell,
Of cruelty that's untold."
That do-gooders seem to do,
They have the knack to destroy,
The good in me and you."
With me mate's the kangaroo,
'Cos they don't give a bloody damn,
About the crazy things I do."
Come and sit down by me side,
'Cos I don't have to lie and cheat,
And I have nothin' here to hide."
And I'm destined to me fate,
They know I'll never hurt them,
'Cos, I am their flamin' mate."