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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In a land of endless saltbush stretching miles across the plains Of western New South Wales where it rarely ever rains, And the temperature is searing on a soil that's living hell, Where bleaching bones remind you of the killer droughts as well. In a land where boredom strikes you as you seek a 'cockies' shed, Where you put up with the haze that always shimmers up ahead, You have drove a hundred miles and there's a hundred more to go, So you're looking for some difference to relieve the 'status quo'. Now you see I am a shearer who has worked upon these plains, And from one shed to another I've put up with travel pains, So I'll tell you now a story that has always stuck with me, About a time when in the vastness stood one single Wilga tree. Now this Wilga is a haven from the sun and stifling heat, And offers shade for resting sheep that found this quiet retreat, But danger lurked in sandy forms with eyes as cold as steel, As 'round and 'round with heads bent low, the fear of death is real. It was common in the outback when one heard the dingo howl, To find the carcass of a slaughtered sheep where the dingo's prowl, So every man who worked this land would take with them a gun, To shoot the scourge of killer dogs until there is not one. Still 'round and 'round those dingo's slunk to get the sheep to run, I think the time is nearly here for me to sight the gun, For the sheep were getting restless and were tending now to bleat, But only moved around in circles keeping shaded from the heat. Yet 'round and 'round the dingo's slunk and still their numbers grew, With the pack much closer now, and the sheep had noticed too, Then in a charge of hoof and dust, where blended fur and wool, I had my finger on the trigger but I wasn't game to pull. For I noticed there was separation from the hunter and the prey, Every sheep from near the tree had made a perfect get-away, It was the dingoes that had panicked, and it was fairly plain to see, That their interest was not killing, they were busting for a pee. ©Lindsay Laurie 2002
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