Pic. credit ~http://www.plantbiotech.com.au/
Xanthorrhoea Preissii,
The Xanthorrhoea preissii, also known as the “grass tree”, is more commonly known to Australians as a “Blackboy”. This stems from the legend that each of these plants is actually the embodied spirit of a deceased Australian Aboriginal (indigenous person) that has returned to the land from which, it is said, they all come.
Th’ story of Jackie Black
I remember back to the old station,
It was a ways off out th’ back,
Mum, dad, me brothers and sisters,
And a burly stockman name of Mack.
I remember a jackeroo to boot,
No finer fella you’d meet on any track,
No one could say his tribal name,
So we called him Jackie Black.
It was during my tenth year I recall,
During that wild time of storms,
Lightning seared the skies all ‘round,
Clouds piled in fantastic forms.
We were all out lendin’ a hand,
Cleanin’ up about the homestead,
When the smell of a bushfire,
Filled us one and all with dread.
We heard the distant cracklin’ roar,
Watched the smoke crest over the trees,
The sorta sight and sound,
Makes a bushie weak at the knees.
Dad and Mack were down th’ front,
They were roundin’ up th’ stock,
Mum came dashin’ out of the house,
She looked like she’d had a shock.
“Where’s Denny and Emmy” she cried,
She stopped and stood stock still.
“They was playin’ down the creek” says Stan,
“Where the billabong is by th’ hill”.
Well Jackie who was nearby looked,
And he never made no sound nor spoke,
Just turned his little pony about,
And plunged into that wall of smoke.
Dad and Mack came up an’ around,
Drivin’ the sheep in a flock ahead,
Pushed ‘em into the big yard,
Out th’ back of the shearin’ shed.
“Where’s that flamin’ Jackie”
I heard me dad shout an’ curse,
We told him what had happened,
He looked like he’d seen a hearse.
We sorta just stood frozen there,
Our panic we tried to restrain,
Just then a pony burst out of the scrub,
Two kids grabbin’ his smokin’ mane.
Denny and Emmy ran to mum,
And their hysterics she tried to tame,
How Jackie put ‘em up and drove ‘em off,
While he was beatin’ back th’ flame.
Two days before we could get in there,
When the weather came on more fine,
But of the valiant Jackie Black,
There wasn’t one solitary sign.
Curious thing though down by the creek,
Near the charred billabong scene,
A blackboy stood tall and strong,
Where we knew there’d never been.
For years after that fateful day,
That sturdy plant it firmly stood,
Reminded us of everything in the land,
That was hardy, brave and good.
And on certain days down the creek,
In amongst the clumping trees,
I coulda sworn I heard Jackie laughin’,
On the warm afternoon breeze.
©TB 2012
The slippery slide…
(Sub-titled: ‘Ere We Go Again)
There’s a new class of poor coming,
Not thanks to the Chinese or Yanks,
We couldn’t be that lucky,
It’s because of our flamin’ banks.
The RBA said “hold it”,
They kept the rates the same,
The banks are jacking theirs up,
They’re greedy and insane.
The interest rate stays the same,
That’s the official word,
Obviously the banks are deaf,
It’s like they never heard.
So now the lower end worker,
Is stuck with payin’ more,
We’re gettin’ s-----d again,
Just like so many times before.
So now comes pressure on wages,
Just to meet the cost,
More workers costin’ more,
Bosses tellin’ ‘em to get lost.
Cost of production goes up,
Cost of goods is on the rise,
We should de-regulate banking,
That’d open up their eyes.
So while the CEO’s get richer,
The worker gets the gong,
No wonder in th’ “lucky country”,
Only twenty percent get along.
Pretty soon you’ll find us,
Lying on the beaches by the sea,
The majority of people in Australia,
Living in unemployable poverty.
©TB 2012
Fate’s decree
Australia is th’ lucky country,
That’s what they used to say,
Always braving the hard knocks,
An’ bouncing back anyway.
Aussies rode the beach at Gallipoli,
We were in France back in ’16,
The flag flew in Greece in ’41,
And in Korea it was again seen.
We didn’t shirk in Vietnam,
Nor in The Gulf or Afghanistan,
Australia never dodged a duty,
We never cut and ran.
Ironic then that the end looms,
Not at the hands of enemy force,
But from our internal woes,
Bureaucracy gone mad of course.
Foreign investors buying up,
Our banks stickin’ th’ boot in,
Bleedin’ hearts erode our values,
The country’s in a real spin.
The people must be heard again,
Somehow somewhere and sometime,
The power pulled from th’ ‘fat cats’,
The rorts they pull are a crime.
It’s hard to have national pride,
When you’re being taken for a ride,
Someday the strata of the greedy rich,
An’ the workin’ class will collide.
An’ when the dust finally settles,
And equality is finally restored,
Then Australia will once again be,
A lucky country to be adored.
Th’ day when a man is paid,
For what he’s truly worth,
Th’ day when our pollies stop,
Tryin’ to please everyone on earth.
Th’ day when scheming financiers,
Are told to pull their head in,
Th’ day when we realise that,
Th’ way we’re treated is a sin.
Th’ day when they stop paying,
Our kids to leave their homes,
Th’ day when they take a hard look,
At th’ bureaucrats choking tomes.
Th’ day when people say “enough”,
Tell ‘em we’re awake to their game,
We’ll be a “nation” proper again,
And not one simply in name.
©TB 2012
Cadence Call…
Based on the concept of the military marching style of cadence that is called to keep time in the steps or speed of the movement. The Cadence is called by the drill instructor, hereafter referred to as DI ) and echoed by the rest of the personnel…(hereafter referred to as P ) here is a cadence I have written for us…
DI: I don’t know but I’ve been told,
P: Repeat
DI: The Labor Party is going to fold,
P: Repeat
DI: With them then the Greens will drown,
P: Repeat
DI: And the Liberals are led by a clown.
P: Repeat
DI: Sound off
P: Oz-ee in woe
DI: Sound off
P: ‘ere we go.
DI: Daddy told me it ain’t right,
P: Repeat
DI: Hear mum cryin’ in th’ night,
P: Repeat
DI: Fac-tor-y is closin’ down,
P: Repeat
DI: Dad’s laid off with half th’ town
P: Repeat
DI: Sound off
P: Oz-ee in woe
DI: Sound off
P: ‘ere we go.
DI: Think I’ll get me on a plane,
P: Repeat
DI: Set down in some foreign rain,
P: Repeat
DI: Get away from this farce,
P: Repeat
DI: Aussie government can kiss my a***
P: Repeat
DI: Sound off
P: one, two
DI: Sound off
P: three, four
DI: ONE, TWO
P: THREE, FOUR.
© TB 2012
Hoo-raw cobbers…! 
Cheers,
T.
