East of Nowhere
Somewhere east of nowhere
stands a rust encrusted shed
In a paddock full of weeds
by a tumbledown homestead
A windmill goes on turning
though the bore has long run dry
and the fence posts are still standing
where the bones of cattle lie
Here a man once fed his family
Here a wife once made a home
and children grew to adulthood
on land they called their own
Lying round the paddock
are reminders of their lives
A wagon wheel, a broken toy
some rusted skinning knives
The corrugated shearing shed
where ringers walked like lords
Is cluttered now with tumbleweeds
and termite ridden boards
No clue remains to tell us
of their fate or where they are
just a tumbledown old homestead
somewhere east of Marble Bar
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
Copyright © Marc Glasby | Year Posted 2018
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