BULLOCKIES REST
Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2018 2:46 pm
... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
It rested now between two gums and it held pride of place
in the garden, a reminder of times past
when bullocks stood between the shafts, one red, one roan, one blue,
all well trained, strong and placid who knew just what to do
when the whip cracked and the bullocky shouted out their cue
to move them on, their pace ponderous not fast.
It was her Grandpa's wagon - and the last one that he drove.
In his younger days he owned a team of ten,
but these three bullocks filled his need - he simply kept the best
to use around the property whenever he felt stressed.
He had a Fergie tractor but with bullocks was obsessed.
He was old school ... from times when men were men.
And on those misty mornings, melancholy memories gathered
in her head as she surveyed the bullock dray.
She saw the bullocks, heard the chains and leather traces creaking
as slack was taken up and iron shod wooden wheels moved - squeaking
as sucking mud released, she heard her old Grandpa's voice speaking ...
"Move up there Bluey, now we're on our way."
And that is why two ancient gum trees guarded that old jinker.
It was her link to history now gone.
A time when simpler things held sway - a bush built timber bullock dray
hand crafted using adze and saw, in the bushman's way,
with beaten bands of steel moulded and heated, so they'd stay,
were all held in that bullock dray so strong,
alongside memories and Grandpa's last swan-song.
It rested now between two gums and it held pride of place
in the garden, a reminder of times past
when bullocks stood between the shafts, one red, one roan, one blue,
all well trained, strong and placid who knew just what to do
when the whip cracked and the bullocky shouted out their cue
to move them on, their pace ponderous not fast.
It was her Grandpa's wagon - and the last one that he drove.
In his younger days he owned a team of ten,
but these three bullocks filled his need - he simply kept the best
to use around the property whenever he felt stressed.
He had a Fergie tractor but with bullocks was obsessed.
He was old school ... from times when men were men.
And on those misty mornings, melancholy memories gathered
in her head as she surveyed the bullock dray.
She saw the bullocks, heard the chains and leather traces creaking
as slack was taken up and iron shod wooden wheels moved - squeaking
as sucking mud released, she heard her old Grandpa's voice speaking ...
"Move up there Bluey, now we're on our way."
And that is why two ancient gum trees guarded that old jinker.
It was her link to history now gone.
A time when simpler things held sway - a bush built timber bullock dray
hand crafted using adze and saw, in the bushman's way,
with beaten bands of steel moulded and heated, so they'd stay,
were all held in that bullock dray so strong,
alongside memories and Grandpa's last swan-song.