The Old Van
Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 12:51 pm
I’ve been doing a few jobs on my old caravan, getting ready to head north on Thursday and this popped into my head. Perhaps it one of those elbow poem that Zondrae speaks of? As I probably won’t be back on the forum for several months I thought I may as well post this now.
THE OLD VAN
If you could only talk old friend what stories you could tell,
of life spent in the outback and of days as hot as hell.
You’ve cruised a thousand bush tracks and been dragged through flooded creeks;
passed through the desert wilderness and camped near craggy peaks.
Your paint is cracked and flaking and there’s dents now all around;
your back so often broken that there’s little left that’s sound.
You’ve choked on dust for years now and repairs are put on hold,
while moving ever onwards in an endless quest for gold.
And when at last the weather cools respite is not for long,
for soon the warmth is fading with the last of autumn’s song.
Then freezing nights of winter come with frost that coats your roof,
and water buckets frozen if you needed further proof
You’ve been there in the good times when the gold lay all around;
heard laughter at the campfire; saw the nuggets that we’d found.
Then watched us in the hard years as we strove to make ends meet,
each day a constant struggle down on luck and nearly beat.
You’ve known so many campsites and no doubt there will be more
and smoke from countless campfires has kept drifting past your door.
You’ve heard the songbirds singing and have watched the Eagles soar,
and seen the timeless beauty of this land that we explore.
In latter years you’ve listened as we sipped a mug of brew,
and reminisced about the past the way that old blokes do,
reliving the excitement of each trail that we would blaze
and you old friend were with me then right through the glory days.
Like me you’re old and battered and each trip may be your last,
our best years are behind us mate, we’re relic’s from the past.
But still I sense an eagerness to hit the road once more,
our Eldorado-s waiting like it’s always been before.
******
© T.E. Piggott April 2012
THE OLD VAN
If you could only talk old friend what stories you could tell,
of life spent in the outback and of days as hot as hell.
You’ve cruised a thousand bush tracks and been dragged through flooded creeks;
passed through the desert wilderness and camped near craggy peaks.
Your paint is cracked and flaking and there’s dents now all around;
your back so often broken that there’s little left that’s sound.
You’ve choked on dust for years now and repairs are put on hold,
while moving ever onwards in an endless quest for gold.
And when at last the weather cools respite is not for long,
for soon the warmth is fading with the last of autumn’s song.
Then freezing nights of winter come with frost that coats your roof,
and water buckets frozen if you needed further proof
You’ve been there in the good times when the gold lay all around;
heard laughter at the campfire; saw the nuggets that we’d found.
Then watched us in the hard years as we strove to make ends meet,
each day a constant struggle down on luck and nearly beat.
You’ve known so many campsites and no doubt there will be more
and smoke from countless campfires has kept drifting past your door.
You’ve heard the songbirds singing and have watched the Eagles soar,
and seen the timeless beauty of this land that we explore.
In latter years you’ve listened as we sipped a mug of brew,
and reminisced about the past the way that old blokes do,
reliving the excitement of each trail that we would blaze
and you old friend were with me then right through the glory days.
Like me you’re old and battered and each trip may be your last,
our best years are behind us mate, we’re relic’s from the past.
But still I sense an eagerness to hit the road once more,
our Eldorado-s waiting like it’s always been before.
******
© T.E. Piggott April 2012
