When The Ashburton River Flows
Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 5:26 pm
I may have posted a version of this somewhere before, perhaps on Bush Verse.
It was placed 5th in the Snowy Riv. Comp. behind Kym, David, Ellis & Don Adams (not a bad Quartet). I was really pleased because I had no expectations what-so-ever.
Although it had got a third somewhere once, I didn’t think it would be suitable for this comp.
WHEN THE ASHBURTON RIVER FLOWS
The threat of drought has eased now with the hope of rain today,
a cyclone that has crossed the coast is headed out our way.
Strong gale force winds are blowing and dark clouds have filled the sky,
and drops of precious rain caress this land that’s parched and dry.
The cyclone vents its fury and wild rainstorms lash the land,
with driving sheets of water that soon drench the thirsty sand.
Ten thousand tiny rivulets flow into many creeks,
that join their bigger brothers as the swollen river peaks.
Up in the hillside country all the creeks are in full spate,
large boulders are soon crashing; trees below await their fate.
Small streams are pouring into creeks; you hear their waters roar,
the Turee and the Wandarry, the Ford and many more.
Down through the rocky gorges see the raging waters race,
across a river crossing that’s now gone without a trace.
The river hastens onwards; muddy waters breaking free,
to sweeps aside all in its path, while rushing to the sea.
Large river gums hang grimly on despite this latest surge;
they’ve braved a hundred floods before – withstood their cleansing purge.
Bedraggled stock now squelch through mud and move without delay,
they’re seeking out the high ground else they too be swept away.
And from a lonely homestead that’s built high up on the slope,
the station folk are smiling, for with rain there has come hope.
The river runs a banker but they’ve seen it all before,
and after years of endless drought, at last their spirits soar.
The station boss stands watching with both hope and some dismay
the drought has now been broken, but he’ll lose some stock today.
His weathered face impassive hiding thoughts that lurk within,
while scratching somewhat ruefully, the stubble on his chin.
The roads are cut for days on end until the levels fall,
and rain continues tumbling down with each succeeding squall.
The country’s inundated like a massive inland sea,
its surface only broken by small hills or wind swept tree.
At last the winds have dropped; the heavy rain begins to ease
and soon the sun will shine again; then comes a drying breeze.
The river will fall quickly and the creeks will soon be dry,
and clouds will hurry from the scene to leave a bright blue sky.
Now hardy hearts of station folk can dare to hope once more,
the land will soon recover back to what it was before.
This country will be blooming as the cycle starts again,
but long before the year is out, once more will cry for rain.
******
© T.E. Piggott 2009
It was placed 5th in the Snowy Riv. Comp. behind Kym, David, Ellis & Don Adams (not a bad Quartet). I was really pleased because I had no expectations what-so-ever.
Although it had got a third somewhere once, I didn’t think it would be suitable for this comp.
WHEN THE ASHBURTON RIVER FLOWS
The threat of drought has eased now with the hope of rain today,
a cyclone that has crossed the coast is headed out our way.
Strong gale force winds are blowing and dark clouds have filled the sky,
and drops of precious rain caress this land that’s parched and dry.
The cyclone vents its fury and wild rainstorms lash the land,
with driving sheets of water that soon drench the thirsty sand.
Ten thousand tiny rivulets flow into many creeks,
that join their bigger brothers as the swollen river peaks.
Up in the hillside country all the creeks are in full spate,
large boulders are soon crashing; trees below await their fate.
Small streams are pouring into creeks; you hear their waters roar,
the Turee and the Wandarry, the Ford and many more.
Down through the rocky gorges see the raging waters race,
across a river crossing that’s now gone without a trace.
The river hastens onwards; muddy waters breaking free,
to sweeps aside all in its path, while rushing to the sea.
Large river gums hang grimly on despite this latest surge;
they’ve braved a hundred floods before – withstood their cleansing purge.
Bedraggled stock now squelch through mud and move without delay,
they’re seeking out the high ground else they too be swept away.
And from a lonely homestead that’s built high up on the slope,
the station folk are smiling, for with rain there has come hope.
The river runs a banker but they’ve seen it all before,
and after years of endless drought, at last their spirits soar.
The station boss stands watching with both hope and some dismay
the drought has now been broken, but he’ll lose some stock today.
His weathered face impassive hiding thoughts that lurk within,
while scratching somewhat ruefully, the stubble on his chin.
The roads are cut for days on end until the levels fall,
and rain continues tumbling down with each succeeding squall.
The country’s inundated like a massive inland sea,
its surface only broken by small hills or wind swept tree.
At last the winds have dropped; the heavy rain begins to ease
and soon the sun will shine again; then comes a drying breeze.
The river will fall quickly and the creeks will soon be dry,
and clouds will hurry from the scene to leave a bright blue sky.
Now hardy hearts of station folk can dare to hope once more,
the land will soon recover back to what it was before.
This country will be blooming as the cycle starts again,
but long before the year is out, once more will cry for rain.
******
© T.E. Piggott 2009
