I recently lost my Dad, He was 90, but still had the ability to appreciate a good joke and previous to his stroke, had a real gift to have people in rapture as he recounted his bush life in story and jokes. Here is a little ditty that I put together in relation to what happened to him, in the milking yard, one cold winters morning
Twas in the middle of a cold bush winter in Queensland
Way out in the Brigalow scrub with the loamy soil of sand,
On each freezing morning, the milking had to be done
And with the cold and black frost it was no fun
It was dark when he led the old beast into the bail
Tied the leg rope and hung the wire to duck the swishing tail
And half asleep, reached underneath to commence the milking task
There was a loud, savage bellow and a kick so hard,
It sent the old gal bucket half way done the yard
A quick awakening that brought his alertness on full
Embarrassment too, when the Boss said, Son that was the Bull.
RIP Ole Mate
