'Black Stump' stream of consciousness...
Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2018 9:07 pm
‘Black Stump’ stream of consciousness…
Way out past the petrol pump
Is where you’ll find the far Black Stump
Though, as a rule, we’re far more fond
Of speaking of what lies beyond
The black stump than the stump itself.
(The next line has to end with shelf.)
Depending on your point of view,
There’s something old or something new
Out there beyond that charcoal stump.
It must just be a filthy dump,
Or wildflowers in a gleaming clump,
Or maybe a great ugly lump
Of gold, and you will get the jump
On each and every other chump
Prospecting past the old black stump.
The reason why it’s black, I guess,
Is ‘cos it’s burnt. We’ve made a mess
Of this here country – clearing land,
Transforming landscapes, once so grand,
To arid deserts, sterile, dry,
And, yes, I know the reason why.
It seemed to so foreign to our eyes.
We held on hard to Britain’s ties.
We tried to shape it to our taste,
But laid, instead, great tracts to waste.
Perhaps there still is time to learn
We do not have to slash and burn
The bush; we will amend this flaw,
And therefore change the metaphor,
And distant things will thus be seen…
Way out past the forest green!
© Stephen Whiteside 05.07.2018
Way out past the petrol pump
Is where you’ll find the far Black Stump
Though, as a rule, we’re far more fond
Of speaking of what lies beyond
The black stump than the stump itself.
(The next line has to end with shelf.)
Depending on your point of view,
There’s something old or something new
Out there beyond that charcoal stump.
It must just be a filthy dump,
Or wildflowers in a gleaming clump,
Or maybe a great ugly lump
Of gold, and you will get the jump
On each and every other chump
Prospecting past the old black stump.
The reason why it’s black, I guess,
Is ‘cos it’s burnt. We’ve made a mess
Of this here country – clearing land,
Transforming landscapes, once so grand,
To arid deserts, sterile, dry,
And, yes, I know the reason why.
It seemed to so foreign to our eyes.
We held on hard to Britain’s ties.
We tried to shape it to our taste,
But laid, instead, great tracts to waste.
Perhaps there still is time to learn
We do not have to slash and burn
The bush; we will amend this flaw,
And therefore change the metaphor,
And distant things will thus be seen…
Way out past the forest green!
© Stephen Whiteside 05.07.2018