OLD CHARLIE

OLD CHARLIE

Old Charlie

he’s a cockie from a bygone age,

has not departed

from his old-time ways,

and his way of doing things,

tonight, with the billy on the boil,

and by the campfire bright;

with last log from the heap

as flickers dance their last request,

Old Charlie’s in his swag

and Bluey’s at his feet,

‘tis dead of night,

for Old Charlie’s called it a day

and now listening to dingo on the howl,

Old Charlie has seen remains

of the dingo’s prowl,

bones, guts and carcass spent around,

which has made Old Charlie shudder

about the cruelty of a dingo’s way,

when they track and hurt

the last of Old Charlie’s herd,

adding to the effects

of what the drought has bought,

but for tonight

Old Charlie’s on a mission,

on a camp out from the farm,

and before the break of day

and before first light will influence,

Old Charlie will give Bluey a gentle nudge,

packing up his swag and rifle ever carefully,

and on his way needing to be somewhere

further beyond his camp site,

and in first light of morn,

someplace up on ridge,

Old Charlie sees

what he has come here for,

and with careful sight,

a bang shatters quiet,

and in a moments pause

a dingo’s pelt is hanging on fence,

as Old Charlie and Bluey are heading home

knowing full well

that bastard isn’t coming back.