THE LITTLE BUSH PUB . . .

Smokey ceiling, wooden floor, bar of finest teak
this then is the bush town's cosey litle pub
many stories had been told, if the walls could speak
of generation after generation, was the social hub

Tales of floods, droughts, poor seasons, prosperity
battles with bureacracy, rabbits, foxes, fires won, lost
birth, death, some tragic happenings, just like big family
produce prices, up or down, banks increasing loan cost

Publican, friendly bloke, muscular, by any means big in size
barmaid, redhead, buxom, sometimes a little too rough
he served the regular drunks their beer in blocks of ice
she fixed the rowdy ones, one stare was usually enough

Jack, he'd tell stories, so unbelievable and equally bizarre
Bill naturally voicing his opinion, its all a load of bull
Cockey, perched in cage, screeching, on end of bar
all the others, quietly drinking, shut-up you bloody fool

So they kept on merrily drinking, beer, spirits and stout
paying, in their intoxicated state, scant attention to time
one more, vaguely remembering which way was the way out
let alone driving their car safely home in a straight line

Maybe you've been inside these charming little country pubs
scattered all over in bush towns in this great land
many now turned, at considerable cost, into cold, modern clubs
in their country town's bush setting, they look quite bland

OLD, BUT STILL LIVING . . .

The deserts of Australia are a facsinating place
nights very cold, days hot, shimmering in heat haze
little rainfall, sparse vegetation, few animals survive
in harsh environment, early explorers lost their live

Some birds have adopted special skills, numbers are few
surviving on little water, sucking at plants for morning dew
some fish and frogs hibernate in tunnels underground
awaiting seasonal rainfall, if and when it does come around

In the distance a few camels, brumbies roam this land
nibling at sparse vegetation, dry, half buried by sand
a lonely dingo prowls, of human beings it's not shy
solitairy falcon circling above, looking for some prey

Hostile environment, no landmarks, very intimidating
and yet full of life, not changed for eons, facsinating
many a season has passed, some with no rain at all
many seeds laying dormant, waiting for the rain to fall

The Simpson Desert, ancient sea, dry since Gondwana land
as far as the eye can see, unrelenting expanse of fine sand
age old inhabitants, interacting elements, unforgiving
mimicking, mocking ancient sea shore, old, but still living