OUT ON THE ROAD

OUT ON THE ROAD

By Frances Harris

Caravans, trucks, dogs and our horses, this is our life on the road,

We’ve all been out here for many a day and picking our way through the toads,

The dogs are all grumpy not keen on the rain, they’re under the canvas and staying,

Our cattle are tired and wanting to rest, some of them carving tomorrow,

The black bull took off right into the scrub, taking some cows with him also,

The best working dog that we’ve ever seen, was driven away in a Ute,

A scurrilous hound said our dog is a brute; he pointed his gun and started to shoot,

The little grey heeler took hold of his leg, now they’re both on their way to the pound,

What more could happen to worsen our run? This should be the best time of year.

I shouldn’t have said that, the brown cow is down; it looks like her leg is entwined,

The calf stands beside her, it’s looking distressed; we don’t have a dog that will work,

The kelpie is sickly; the collie’s on heat, my husband has gone for a beer,

So who was it said that life’s good in the bush? I don’t think they’ve tried it for sure.

My daughters are cranky they’re walking to town, the good car has got a flat tyre,

The black clouds are heavy, my horse threw a shoe, and I hope that the cows are alright,

I’m feeling quite weary, I didn’t get sleep, there isn’t a lot I can do,

I get in the trailer and go back to bed and pull up the blankets to rest,

My head’s on the pillow, I bring out a book, a coffee it sits at my side,

I cover my head with a warm woollen hat, keeping the cold from my ears,

Then dogs start their barking, my Jimmy is back, everything’s fine now he’s here,

If anyone asks would I live in the bush? I’d answer quite soundly – for Sure!

I just wouldn’t swap it for life in the town, a big wooded house and a car,

I do think I'd miss the days of fresh air, a schedule that rarely is tight,

The rough and the tumble is part of the life, you just couldn’t beat what is here.