coppers verdict
Posted: Mon Aug 05, 2013 7:58 pm
Copper's Verdict
He was swearing like a trooper, when I arrived there on the scene where I heard him, down in the mallee scrub.
His horse had thrown him like a beauty; I bettin he was bloody sore.
An his arm it could be broken, for it was swinging in the breeze, an his face was coloured scarlet, from the blood, running from his scalp, his shirt was ripped his trousers torn, his bum was showing through, he looked a bloody mess and, by hell that bloke could swear.
He was yelling and curse and he swore like many a droving man as I opened up his saddle bag, an grabbed his towel.
An I tore it up and rapped it around his bloody head he stuck his hat upon it to keep the towel from falling off when he spied his baccy tin laying there and yah should a seen him grin for inside was his rollies he’d made the night before.
He lite one and smiled as his nerves they began to settled down, but he was still swearing.
“I see yah horse had thrown yah” I said, there with a cheeky grin, no drover worth his salt would admit, his horse had thrown him. His horse he’d slipped that what he said, and that I don’t believe, an then he started to shake, the nerves and pain had come to him right now. Now there was something I could do for him so I opened up me saddle bag and there inside, a bottle that said Bundaberg rum. Here have a swig of that old chap, for medicinal purposes only of course.
He sat there on a stump and had a little nip and then he had another one to settle down his nerves the other for the pain then he had one more just for him to keep the pain away.
I made a sling and put it on for him I was as gentle as could be an then he took another swig to deaden up the pain I thought an then another one for luck encase it weren't said he.
Well his horse he stood real quiet like a well broken nag was he an so I helped him get aboard his horse an then steady him I did.
He took another swig of rum bigger than before, “I am in shock” he said, an then he took another to help ease the pain, well that was what he said.
So I climbed up on me horse an slowly led the way to town, fifteen miles away at a walking pace I fear, an him he was sucking on me Bundy rum, bloody hell he looked a wreck, an he finished up me bottle, an me I hadn’t even got a drop not even to wet flamin me lips.
He started to moan an grown it nearly drove me mad an he said the pain was bloody awful.
Then he said, “you ain’t got another Bundy hiding in yah swag has yah”.
Well I opened up me saddle bag an low an behold another quart bottle was to be had. I opened it and before I got a swig he grabbed it from me hands an took a great big swig, “me need is worse than yours” he said.
“Me friend’ this pain is something great” an clutched the bottle to his tattered shirt.
And slowly ever slowly we travelled, heading into town an the level of the bottle was quickly going down and still I ain’t tasted not one tiny drop, an his horse he plodded onward, slowly heading for the town.
Another nip another sip the levels going down, an he was swaying in the saddle I think the pain was getting to him an thank god that he had finished that quart bottle and disposed of it.
When we was passing by the court house he swayed an fell off from his horse.
The local copper race over to him with the doctor by his side an the doctor took one look and copper promptly threw him into clink an it there that he charged him so I’m told.
For being drunk while being in charge of a horse.
Bill The old Battler ©
He was swearing like a trooper, when I arrived there on the scene where I heard him, down in the mallee scrub.
His horse had thrown him like a beauty; I bettin he was bloody sore.
An his arm it could be broken, for it was swinging in the breeze, an his face was coloured scarlet, from the blood, running from his scalp, his shirt was ripped his trousers torn, his bum was showing through, he looked a bloody mess and, by hell that bloke could swear.
He was yelling and curse and he swore like many a droving man as I opened up his saddle bag, an grabbed his towel.
An I tore it up and rapped it around his bloody head he stuck his hat upon it to keep the towel from falling off when he spied his baccy tin laying there and yah should a seen him grin for inside was his rollies he’d made the night before.
He lite one and smiled as his nerves they began to settled down, but he was still swearing.
“I see yah horse had thrown yah” I said, there with a cheeky grin, no drover worth his salt would admit, his horse had thrown him. His horse he’d slipped that what he said, and that I don’t believe, an then he started to shake, the nerves and pain had come to him right now. Now there was something I could do for him so I opened up me saddle bag and there inside, a bottle that said Bundaberg rum. Here have a swig of that old chap, for medicinal purposes only of course.
He sat there on a stump and had a little nip and then he had another one to settle down his nerves the other for the pain then he had one more just for him to keep the pain away.
I made a sling and put it on for him I was as gentle as could be an then he took another swig to deaden up the pain I thought an then another one for luck encase it weren't said he.
Well his horse he stood real quiet like a well broken nag was he an so I helped him get aboard his horse an then steady him I did.
He took another swig of rum bigger than before, “I am in shock” he said, an then he took another to help ease the pain, well that was what he said.
So I climbed up on me horse an slowly led the way to town, fifteen miles away at a walking pace I fear, an him he was sucking on me Bundy rum, bloody hell he looked a wreck, an he finished up me bottle, an me I hadn’t even got a drop not even to wet flamin me lips.
He started to moan an grown it nearly drove me mad an he said the pain was bloody awful.
Then he said, “you ain’t got another Bundy hiding in yah swag has yah”.
Well I opened up me saddle bag an low an behold another quart bottle was to be had. I opened it and before I got a swig he grabbed it from me hands an took a great big swig, “me need is worse than yours” he said.
“Me friend’ this pain is something great” an clutched the bottle to his tattered shirt.
And slowly ever slowly we travelled, heading into town an the level of the bottle was quickly going down and still I ain’t tasted not one tiny drop, an his horse he plodded onward, slowly heading for the town.
Another nip another sip the levels going down, an he was swaying in the saddle I think the pain was getting to him an thank god that he had finished that quart bottle and disposed of it.
When we was passing by the court house he swayed an fell off from his horse.
The local copper race over to him with the doctor by his side an the doctor took one look and copper promptly threw him into clink an it there that he charged him so I’m told.
For being drunk while being in charge of a horse.
Bill The old Battler ©
but I often had a bottle of rum in me saddle bag. 
But the foundation of that yarn is true 
John was charged with drunk in charge of a horse 
