The Shearers Cook (1945)
(By E. Pike)
I've met a lot of station cooks,And cooks for shearers, too;
They all of them take a delight
In serving up a stew
That's made from what I cannot say,
But everyone agrees
No matter what he makes it of,
It's not made from green peas. Of course most men are hard to please,
They're wanting this and that.
Until oft-times the poor cook feels
Like going off his bat.
But every case—it has two sides,
I'll tell you of one new.
This fellow was a shearers' cook.
A bloke named Billy Howe. The floods were running high that spring,
The tucker had run low,
Just what the cook could give the men
He really didn't know ;
The men yelled loud but all in vain.
It was an old-man flood,
They could not stir ten yards away,
Twas all a sea of mud. The hungry shearers shook their fists.
Were starving Bill, they cried,
And so am I, I well could eat
A bloomln' bullock hide,
Said Bill, and then a dreamy look
Showed in his eyes of blue.
"Hi, blokes, just take it calm", says he.
I'll get something for you." "There now." they yelled, "I knew he had
Some tucker hid away.
He's just been eating it himself.
I don't care what yer say."
They swore at him but something that
They saw in that cook's eyes
Began to make them think such talk
Perhaps was not too wise. They went back to their work, and soon
An appetising smell
Came from the cookhouse, then they heard
The welcome dinner bell.
They tumbled over hides and stools.
Each strove to get there first.
For every man felt well-nigh starved.
And each one had a thirst. They drank the tea in thankful gulps,
The stew was just as good.
In fact they'd not in all their days
Been served such splendid food.
"Some more they cried," "Gee Bill, it's great,
You surely are some cook
But what in hell did you get it from-
You got a hidden nook?' The cook just smiled, he said no word.
But served them o'er again.
Until at last, all satisfied
They trooped out in the rain.
Except a few who wandered in
To where the smiling Bill
Was pouring out some surplus stew
The tomcat's plate to fill. "What's that?" they chorused, eyes abulge.
And sniffed suspiciously.
As dripping wet beside the pan
Which once contained the tea
They saw tattered garments, and,
A piece of bullock hide.
"Oh them." said Bill, "they're Dirty's shirts."
And quickly stepped aside. Ye, that there cook, not knowing just
What else there was to do.
Gets hold of "Dirty's" dirty shirts
And hashes up a brew
Of liquid that they thought was tea.
Though they said 'twas pretty dark.
He stewed the hide and devoured it
With socks and bits of bark. They said that cook was bounced about
Just like a robber band.
But feebly he protested that
He could not understand
Just why they all should treat him so,
For as 'most each one knew
'Twas not all cooks made a success
Of hide and garment stew. Mareela. Notes From the Queensland Newspaper The Townsville Daily Bulletin 17 Apr 1945 p. 3.