Now 'Romy' was a friend of mine
He stood 'round 14:3
He had a damn good temperament
Well...pretty much like me
Was kind and honest ..did his job
He never questioned orders
we'd chased a lot of cattle tho'
And crossed a lot of borders

There's only once that springs to mind
When he was only three
T'was my fault things got hectic
And 'Ol Romy' would agree
But that's a few years bygone hence
When I was young and green
So pull a stump and settle down
And visualize the scene

I rolled my swag and packed my gear
And walked towards my horse
Happy in my chosen work
A drovers life of course
I placed the sweat cloth on his back
And eased the saddle up
I tightened up the cinches
Then started to mount up

I swung loosely to the saddle
And gathered up the reins
Then 'Romy' just exploded
Like a ruptured water mains
His shoulders lifted rigid
He caught me by surprise
I saw myself in orbit
Right before my very eyes

The gap got real wider
T'ween the saddle and my rear
And I knew that leaving leather
Was very very near
But in determination
With all the strength to find
I hung on for my 'crown jewels'
Were foremost on my mind

He bucked and rose and grunted
I knew something was amiss
For never had 'Ol Romy'
Ever acted up like this
It seemed like it was ages
But was seconds I am sure
Then I got off and left him
I was feeling rather sore

He'd sent the camp gear flying
He had kicked a lot of sand
I looked and there stood 'cookie'
With a shovel in his hand
The look he gave was fit to kill
As I sit here thinking that
If I had spoke a single word
He would have broke my back

But I had turned to 'Romy'
Something was not right
I had to find a reason
For his sudden airborne fright
So I took my gear down off him
To check it thoroughly
To find a damn Nagoora Burr
Was ne'er the death of me

From that day on I never missed
A time to check my 'tack'
I always check my saddle cloth
And brush my horses back
T'was only once in his whole life
'Oh boy' he let me know
And for years we went on droving
North and South with Mobs we'd go

With mobs from up in Queensland
Cross borders far and free
Then down the old 'Strezlecki..
To the railhead at Marree
Where we'd load them into wagons
Then turn our heads for town
To start the next job planning
Another mob to bring on down

But the Droving days are over
Road trains ply their faster trade
Still the Drover has his memories
Of all the trips he made
It's an era I'll remember
Up until my dying day
And I'll not forget 'Ol Romy'
My old mate of yesterday..


M.B.Poems 2010....