Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
on the sun-scorched prairies
of the Mississippi Valley:
where no tree is found in a shady spot,
but plenty of wild daisies
and pink roses distract you constantly!
Winter came with snow and haze,
and the buffalos couldn't graze;
now, in the open prairie, they do
and aren't startled by your gallops or
fear being chased and hunted by two
or three lasso-throwing cowboys for
their gorgeous hides to make a fortune...
hear them whistling a Kenny Roger's tune!
Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
through the rich farmlands burning,
until you'll get hungry, thirsty and tired;
sit down by the Mississipi River and unwind,
observe the clearest water flowing
as Mark Twin did while he was writing!
Drover, ride the white horse, ride it with grit...
while thinking how far is your home,
how lonely is your wife holding Jerome!
Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
drover, horse, peace, places, song,
Form: Rhyme
Ex Drover, me
As the cleaner sweeps the street,
And the saddle leather squeaks,
cos he's riding ol Darkie,
an his mind is with the herd.
He remembers the cold nights,
Leaps from his swag at daylight,
To stand by the fire ,
For some breakfast egg n bacon.
Yes bloody sah!
An the coffe black as char,
Sucked from his quartpot , jar.
And the toast is a burning ,
Like a bad cigar.
Is burning ,
And the sun comes up, aha.
So we’ll move them poley bullocks,
On the grassy stock route millet,
And the bore drain will water ,
Them poley bullocks shortly,
Till we get to Mungathar.
Don Johnson 8-aug-11
Categories:
drover, adventure,
Form: Ballad
I drove the demons 'cross the land
By their side I rode each day
Each night I fed them by the hand
And cracked the stock whip each command
I drove the demons far away
One grinned and sung a lustful song
One stood conceited, pride and all
Each night I fed them, growing strong
Beneath my hand where they belong
I drove the demons, under thrall
One cowered like beaten hound
One sneared in anger at the weak
Each night I fed them from my crown
Which, like a halo, they surround
I drove the demons like a sheik
Amidst a ponderous, solemn drove
I speak of monsters I compel
Each night I fed my demons well
And mustered through the forest grove
The demons that I thought I drove
Are droving me inside my cell
Categories:
drover, allegorynight, night,
Form: Rhyme