LYRIC FOR SALE

By Jacko Dale

On the Howqua River
Stepped over the ridge,
seen the flowing waters.
Knew he’d found a place
to rest his legs,
roll out his swag
above the water.

Dropped it high above the flood lines,
while in his head,
he drew his fire pit.
Using the rocks over there,
giving him a place
to call home tonight.

As the sun began to disappear,
he collected firewood to last the night,
setting up the ring of stones—
rocks to keep him warm,
during a cold high-country night.

He filled the billy
for morning tea,
or to put the fire out.
Or, if strangers turn up,
he can boil them a cup of tea.

Stars start to reach out,
the moon is lazy on this night.
On the Howqua River,
in Victoria’s High Country.

Set the rod for breaky in the morning,
sat it on the bank
ready to cast in.
He’s hoping to catch
a trout this morning—
or it’s a can of Spam again.

After three days in the bush,
feeling a little spammed out,
a trout would go down well.

As he crawls into his swag,
he mumbles these words:
"After three days in the bush,
feeling a little spammed out,
a trout would go down well.
A trout would go..."

The dream tonight:
A trout would go down well.