ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

The death of a stockman © Bill Williams

Now he went up there to heaven
Not so many years ago
An aboriginal stockman
And his name was Billy Joe

He was raised there at mission
A long, long time ago
Where he learnt to read and write

He learnt to say his prayers
As he knelt beside his bed
An became an alter boy,

He’d watch the gilded cross
And the sacrament he’d take
An he listen to the sermons

But he yearned to be a stockman
And a good stockman he did make
For he never touched a drop of grog

In any camp or shanty shelter
An a good ringer he was known,
He broke their wild bush horses where

The saltbush plains were wild and harsh
But Billy Joe he broke them different
And Billy Joe, never did he swear

One day while in the round yard
He slipped and was trampled
By the brumbies in the mob

So they buried him, in the graveyard
At that cemetery on the hill
Where he went on up to heaven

And stood before those pearly gates
Where St Peter came to greet him,
Just like his lordship should.

////////////////// Bill Williams

Plenty of them around in days gone by Bill, just a shame the chain seems to be broken!

Good to see you turning out some new verse Bill. Have you done this one on your radio segment ?

It's simple and direct, and I think for that reason very effective. ( see my slogan below )

Thanks Ross and Neville I know I could have Neville But I respected Franks Poem a lot so I posted it here so as not to crowd his post
And I apologise Ross if I Badly placed my words to you about racism (sorry about the spelling mate)
a mate who was with me 45 years ago arrived just last night backfrom a trip to the Alice where we had gone those years ago and was absolutly discusted with the way that the native people had changed since the dropping of the White Australian policy. I know it was not a good thing then, but was it as bad as things have become now.

Bill the old Battler

...no need to apologise to me Bill, I knew what you meant!