Bold Tommy Payne
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I'll tell you a story, it's sad but it's true,
Of the wild pigs where I come from and the damage they do.
There once was a farmer called Bold Tommy Payne
Who grew some sweet Pindar and Q.50 cane.
It was late in the evening an old
boar he came,
And he started a-dining on Bold Tommy's cane,
So up stepped Bold Tommy, the fire in his eye,
He cursed and he swore that the old boar must die.
He reached for his rifle
that stood by the door,
And he called for his pig-dogs, and they came by the score.
Then down to the caneflelds, all dressed for the fray
In waistcoat and trousers, Bold Tom made his way.
As he stood on the headland
and gazed all around
He heard the cane cracking, and he heard a strange sound.
As the big boar came charging straight for Bold Tom,
The dogs were all barking and the battle was on!
Up stepped Bold Tommy, six
feet in the air,
As he straddled the porker he heard his pants tear,
Well, you should have heard the language and the words of Bold Tom
When he found to his sorrow his trousers were gone.
Now out in old Smithfield
where the Pindar it grows,
The folks tell the story and they ought to know;
How up on Black Mountain that old boar resides,
And they say that he's still wearing Bold Tommy's strides!
Notes
Written by Jack Crossland, a cane farmer in the area near Smithfield in 1953 when the events took place.
It was on the banks of the Barron River; and the blacksmith there was Jack Crossland's grandfather. Jack Crossland was