1929 (?) The Best Mother of All (two poems, same name)

1929-01-01bestmother01.JPG (99118 bytes) 1929-01-01bestmother02.JPG (82059 bytes) 1929-01-01bestmother03.JPG (59170 bytes)



Mother Dear I feel like writing

From among these sand hills red

Close by the boss is skiting

Of the horses he has bred


The lads sit there and listen

Some believe him, some in doubt

But to me there's one screw missing

In our boss from further out.


So I leave the fire and wander

To my swag behind the packs

Where I lie awake and ponder

While he talks of fights with blacks.


Then I think of home and Mother

As I gaze towards the skies

And one silent sob I smother

As the boss still tells his lies.


Back, back my fancy takes me

And I see you all quite plain

While a something almost makes me

Wish I were a kid again.  


Wish I were a kid to scamper

In the gullies by the creek

Ah! We had no cares to hamper

'Twas one joy from week to week.


Alas! Those days have gone forever

How the years are flying past

But through shine or cloudy weather

Those happy memories last.


So Goodnight now dear Mother

My rhyming mood has fled

The boss and his long brother

Have disappeared to bed.


A night horse softly outshouts

To his mates across the flat

Around the back the lookouts

Are changing watch and that -


Means nine o'clock old timer

I'm called again at four

And - if I'm not a first rate rhymer

I'm your boy for evermore.