Welcome to Dave Berman's newest Bush Poetry
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Brumby stallion

I rode a brumby stallion once by chance lucky me
I was sitting at a waterhole in a red gum tree
And when he came to drink,..... I jumped off on his back
Grabbed some mane, he spun around and galloped up the track
He galloped towards the western pines, towards the sinking sun
And "not a survey peg defines the bounds of brumbies run"

By the jolly swagman's billabong, then down the mountain side
Where the man from snowy river rode his famous ride
Across the sunlit planes extended, across this sunburnt land
We followed a mob of camels towards the dunes of desert sand

Bilbies and the bettongs scuttled from his feet
And rabbits ran beside us where there was nothing left to eat
And we galloped past the carcasses of horses that had died
In the drought when they ran out of food and their water holes all dried

I felt the thoroughbred beneath me and the strength of draught horse bone
Descended from the Waler, warhorse, we were not alone
Beside us the Light-horsemen jumped trenches and barbed wire
Charging fearlessly bayonets drawn into shell and machine gun fire

Around the overflow we galloped back to the water hole
Back to where the stallion had left his mares and foal
He stopped he wasn't beaten, he wasn't even tied
When I slid off his back and said "thanks mate for the ride"
Yeah, I rode a brumby stallion by chance lucky me
Sitting, waiting, dreaming in a red gum tree.

© Dave Berman 2013

Stop work blue dog

"Stop work blue, go-on stop!" and I snuck beneath the ute
In the shade I sat to see, what the boss was going to shoot
I couldn't see a pig, a rabbit, fox or kangaroo
Why did the boss pull out and load his old twenty two?

It wasn't drought, no struggling stock stuck in a dam of mud
No sheep caught in a fence, washed there by the flood
No bank man coming up the road, to bark at and chase away
Why did the boss get out his gun, what will he shoot today?

He muttered "I can't sell the steers," I heard the weapon cock
Saw him walk towards the yard full of healthy stock
Under a tree he paused and stood, gun barrel towards the sky
Bang!! I ran to see…. on the ground… a bird about to die

An Indian myna, "bloody pest!!, Blue!! back to work old mate!"
"In the yard behind the steers push 'em out the gate"
"Back to the paddock to graze the grass that's grown well since the rain"
"Leave 'em there until…. live exports start again".

© Dave Berman 2011

Made on an iPad
Blue the dog
A galah