Joe The Shearer

His craggy wrinkled face tells of time's wear and tear Bald at the top of the head surrounded by silver gray hair He has been to many places and walked on many a path Since he left the rural City of Ararat. One who has had plenty of lovers but never a wife He knows that one of his affairs to a son did give life But that was years ago in a far away town Back when his hair was a dark chestnut brown His son or his son's mother he has not seen for years Though memories of his loss does not move him to tears He is of a tough school as one does say One who has lived life in the hard way He worked as a shearer years beyond his life's prime And this is going back many Seasons in time His nomadic existence carried him to places new And of women in his life he had quite a few A man who loved the country town pub atmosphere And he does retain his strong liking for beer One who in his life nothing to did come free He looks fit and well for one of eighty three His better days in life he surely has known Too old now for women he sleeps on his own Joe the Shearer was in his prime five decades ago And as is said of time it becomes everyone's foe.