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Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:22 pm
by Maureen K Clifford
AND IN THE MORNING CURRAWONGS SANG ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

He sat watching the sunrise, waving off pesky bush flies,
pulled a feathered lure and hook from his Akubras stained sweat band…………

He’d camped down by the river in a green and grassy meadow
‘neath the boughs of casuarinas and the stately iron bark trees.
His black billy was boiling, with the steaming water roiling
and for added flavour he threw in a gum leaf with the tea.
There were mushrooms, bacon, ‘taters, plenty left over for later,
if a quick snack was then fancied as the morning whiled away.
He could make a bacon sanger – even grill some extra bangers
with tomato sauce and crusty rolls - a feast, I hear you say.

‘Twas the long weekend of Easter and this year it was a long one
for Anzac Day was in the mix, a day of national pride.
some Diggers are heavy drinkers, but this one was using sinkers
on a line with bait attached , he fished out there on the Callide.
In the west shire of Banana where Leith Hays – a local farmer
used an old dun coloured bullock to lure others to his side,
that was back in 1850 – a plan of action somewhat nifty.
The Bullock was called Banana, for the colour of his hide.

Old Jim the fishing digger had his stubbies and a jigger
full of Bundy, that he planned to use to toast his long gone mates.
No more a marching soldier, his old bones had gotten older,
he still honoured the fallen, saw no call to celebrate.
But he well recalled the summer, marching to a beating drummer
down the streets of Sydney to the quay. All young men on parade.
Platoons of blokes departing, leaving home, their plans imparting.
Every house had maps of Vietnam with fighting zones displayed.

So today he sat there fishing, recalling the dead and missing,
thinking of his brother Toby a young bloke lost to home,
country and dear ones, one of Australia’s sons,
who rested on foreign shores now in a different countries loam.
Then he felt the hand line jerking, and soon old Jim was working
pretty hard to pull the line in from the Callide waters brown.
He had caught a Yellow Belly – his old legs had gone to jelly
and he whispered ‘ Toby this one’s yours’ - whilst his heart settled down.

He raised his glass and toasted all the men long gone, and boasted
to a brother long departed ‘this sure beats the one you caught.
But I’d gladly pass up fishing ‘cause it’s you Mate that I’m missing
and I guess you’d know that when Mum got the news – she was distraught.
The old fellow threw the towel in, found him behind the shed howling
like a baby, Mate I tell you that sure came as a surprise.
For a bloke as tough as leather who always held it together.
Well it shook me up I tell you seeing tears fall from his eyes.

I drink a toast here to my Brother and my Father and my Mother.
All of you were bloody heroes’; Jim saluted with his hand.


Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:40 pm
by Shelley
A good yarn, Maureen - is it based on a true story?


Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:59 pm
by Maureen K Clifford
Yes and no :lol: There is a lot of truth in it but the time set isn't true


Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 6:03 pm
by Shelley
That's the poet's privilege! ;)