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CLARRIE PETERS Austinmer Recorded 26 April 1973 Note: Complete poem – written by a mate, Arthur McCulloch, in Queensland. This poem has been collected as 'Jim, The Boss Rider' and is typical of the favoured horse poems Old GloryHe had come to Numeralla, in the drought of '98That had tuned the Monaro Plains to a sea of sand And the philanthropic super Feeling pity for his state Had given him a start as extra hand Now he must have been a marvel for at night he'd sit for hours And boast about the marvellous things he'd seen and done How he'd rung the sheds at Bathurst, beating Howe by thirty sheep And broken outlaw horse in – at night. Now we had a horse, an outlaw, out on Numeralla run, No stronger horse had ever stretched the rails, She had thrown Monaro Billy, and the station breaker, Dunn, And he was reckoned pretty savage, throughout the southern plains Well, the boss came down this morning, we'd planned the joke, you see, I've letters here must catch the mail, said he, You'd better take them Jimmy; you can take the chestnut colt, But mind, or she'll have you on your head. Jim threw on the saddle and the colt stood like a sheep, One moment and we thought our joke had failed But Jim was barely seated when the colt put down his head And belted at it like a demon through the rails. We made a rush for horses and our eyes we opened wide, To see Jim like a perfect horseman ride He'd bring that stockwhip up, every time that colt would rise, And tease him with the bleeders when he lit. We made a dash on horses to where we seen them last All was hurry, horses going to and fro But when we reached the patch of land, where we had seen them last Both horse and rider had disappeared from view. For miles and miles of tracks we followed, but still no news had come to hand, And all agreed, perforce, that all was lost, 'Till a party searching eastwards found some hoof prints in the sand And all agreed a horse had lately crossed. On a level piece of country, out beyond the Londaroo, Hemmed in by mountains wide and gorges deep, We found our chestnut colt, still bucking, as he ever knew And Jim, astride him, fast asleep. |