The tide slipped out,
The sun went down,
His thoughts surrounded,
That small old town.
The whispering wind,
The flames that cooked,
His catch for the day,
Downhearted he looked.
He missed the mates,
He always saw,
Even Jack at the local,
All lost to war.
"Life has lost meaning Blue",
He said to his friend,
A little sad eyed heeler,
That God must have sent.
As the barra' turned brown,
And the prayers were all said,
Blue turned around,
The old man was dead.
Why such a war,
Meaningless cost,
To honour your country,
To die or be lost.
1981
(barra' is short for barramundi)
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