Piccaninny Dawn.

[thestoryteller]

PICCANINNY DAWN

The old man and his grandson viewed
a barren bladeless ground.
When to his left the young lad's eye
saw bleached bones scattered 'round.

'Twas more than one beast's bones that lay
there exposed to the sun.
it seemed more like a battlefield
where only death had won.

The old man saw the young lad wince
he reined in close behind
as memories of what took place
came flooding through his mind.

A century turned but not his luck
for rains had failed again.
He slowly watched the dams dry up
while cattle died in pain.

A little water still remained
though sought by feral stock.
Some brumbies which came down at dawn
still often used the block.

In good times no one cared that much,
but not so any more.
The young lad's dad and this old man
both knew what lay in store.

A high log fence closed off the dam
the timber they had sawn.
Suspended gate it lay in wait
for piccaninny dawn.

Then as the last mare ambled through
wood gate it dropped like lead.
A wood rail race seemed their escape
but death lurked there instead.

Their capital had all dried up
no cash for lead and gun,
to execute the feral stock
took knife and old man's son.

With legs astride the wood rail race
son grimaced as he drew
that blade of death 'cross jug'lar vein,
then slapped the victim through.

Each fleet foot spirit faltered there
a hundred yards away
while blazing eyes showed fear of death,
mouths gave a weakened neigh.

Then one by one their weak frames fell
onto the dusty ground,
the racing hearts of those poor beasts
then gave their final pound.

The slaughter did not save the stock
for all the dams went dry.
It fin'ly broke the old man's son,
he watched the grown man cry.

All this, the old man told the lad,
the picture was now drawn.
On why his dad then took his life
one piccaninny dawn.

© Merv Webster

From the Book A Muster of Vere and Yarns

[Maureen K Clifford]

Oh Lordy - that's awful, bad enough to have to shoot them but to do this - that would weigh heavy on your mind. I could well imagine it having a terrible effect on the the old bloke.. Right now anything to do with brumbies is really stirring my blood as our Govt is hell bent on decimating our Snowy Mountain mob as we speak.

A well crafted write Merv.

[thestoryteller]

G'day Maureen.

Sadly based on a true story involving a family with the same surname around the turn of the 1900's in south west Queensland.

The family were happy to share in good times but the drought really decimated the area and brought hard decisions.

I saw some of the brumby mobs in the Snowy area on one trip down there.

We had the same problem in the Carnarvon Ranges in Queensland.

Appreciate your sharing this with us.


Mum.