The Shearers (1951)
An engine purrs and the belting whirrs
In a western Queensland shed;
The shafting spins in its urgent drive
Of the whirling overhead.
The shearer bends on the straight, long blow
As the comb glides fast and wide.
Over shoulder deep, and the white wool falls
From a clean-shorn whipping side.
It is dawn till dusk in the shearing shed
Where the fleeting hours go by,
Front the birth of' a dew-damp morning clear
Till the noontide rides on high.
Through the long, still hours, when the heat waves dance
In the distant mirage glare,
To the evening hush, whan the shadows fall
And the sunset banners flare.
There is courage high on a shearing board.
For the password there is "speed"
When rivals meet and may match their skill
And strive for the honoured "lead".
Oh, magic word in the western lands,
Enthroned there a shearing "gun".
Who will "swing the gate" through the long, hot days
Till the and of the long, dry run.
Does he think at night, by the flickering light,
In the hut with his tried pan-mate,
Of the loved ones far in a small bush town
and who watch by a garden gate ?
Does he see the home where the children romp.
Us he dreams by a campfire bright;
Does he hear the voice of the one who prays
through the hours of a storm-tossed night?
He wakes at dawn ere the morning sun
Sips the dew from the saltbush gray;
And murmurs low as he takes his stand:
"Just a few, with two hundred today."
Be will "deuce" them clean as a ringer can,
With a few, just to spare at the count.
And the wool flows on, in an ordered stream
Through the shed, as the tallies mount.
An engine purrs and the belting whirrs
In a western Queensland shed;
The shafting spins in its urgent
drive of the whirling overhead.
The shearer sings on the "cut-out"
And jokes with his old bush mate;
For the swags are rolled, and the loved ones call
Who watch by a homestead gate.
P.J.GIBNEY.
Boondilla, via Warra.
Notes
From the Brisbane Newspaper the Worker Monday 25 June 1951 p. 4.