his companion
Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 2:23 pm
His companion
She was found lying on the floor by the door of the old shearing shed a little battered and worse for wear, not like she was when I first saw her a few years ago.
In those days her shape was one to be admired she was nicely rounded with a protruding lip that many a man had felt in pleasure only to be discard when he had finished with her
All she ever longed for was to be was needed, and wanted, and held by only one man but it was not to be for she was passed from man to man not staying with each for long though at times she was held with a love that a few people may understand though they too soon discarded her when they no longer needed her.
Oh what a life she had for all she ever knew was up and down, up and down and then she would lay there silent and never moving until the next man came to use her, relieving his needs then he to would move on until someone else came to do much the same.
His needs she gave to him and his use was always the same and the words they said were much the same. I sure need that or that was good.
Many a night she had spent around the camp fire enjoying the warmth and cheery glow hearing those soft quite melodious voices as tales were told and yarns were said and there once again she was being held by firm gentle hands, hands that held her around the middle so that she may never fall and as the night grew longer and as sleep over come him she felt once again that emptiness within her.
Morning once again and again she felt that fullness with in her though it did not last for long before that emptiness’ feeling once more claimed her.
For many years those indignities she endured and for many years nothing changed until one day after all those years of roaming the old drover hung up his saddle and his spurs never more to roam.
And that old battered tin cup she now laid on the floor by the door of the old shearing shed
Written by Bill Williams ©
She was found lying on the floor by the door of the old shearing shed a little battered and worse for wear, not like she was when I first saw her a few years ago.
In those days her shape was one to be admired she was nicely rounded with a protruding lip that many a man had felt in pleasure only to be discard when he had finished with her
All she ever longed for was to be was needed, and wanted, and held by only one man but it was not to be for she was passed from man to man not staying with each for long though at times she was held with a love that a few people may understand though they too soon discarded her when they no longer needed her.
Oh what a life she had for all she ever knew was up and down, up and down and then she would lay there silent and never moving until the next man came to use her, relieving his needs then he to would move on until someone else came to do much the same.
His needs she gave to him and his use was always the same and the words they said were much the same. I sure need that or that was good.
Many a night she had spent around the camp fire enjoying the warmth and cheery glow hearing those soft quite melodious voices as tales were told and yarns were said and there once again she was being held by firm gentle hands, hands that held her around the middle so that she may never fall and as the night grew longer and as sleep over come him she felt once again that emptiness within her.
Morning once again and again she felt that fullness with in her though it did not last for long before that emptiness’ feeling once more claimed her.
For many years those indignities she endured and for many years nothing changed until one day after all those years of roaming the old drover hung up his saddle and his spurs never more to roam.
And that old battered tin cup she now laid on the floor by the door of the old shearing shed
Written by Bill Williams ©
, Neville