Panic At The Station

There was panic at the station as the horses soon returned they will never leave behind their trusted place, barn and sheds and trees on fire and the Southern paddock burned. Flames as high as watertowers, Satan's face. Get the youngsters in the wagon, quick, the road will soon be closed never mind the bloomin' papers and the dough come Black Fella, start the ute, there is no need to get her hosed there she comes with all her power, see the glow? Leave the horses, cannot shift them, and the poultry all the chooks there is nothing we can save, they all must die all my photos, steins and persians, the collection of old books let's get cracking, and please Martha do not cry. I can tell you, my Black Fella, you have been a loyal drover and your word has always been a solemn pledge, but my trust in the creator it is finished, gone, all over there is nothing that would keep me near the edge. That a power up in Heaven oversees this great disaster and he doesn't interfere or even blink, I shall find amongst the people, black or white another Master 'cause the present one is nothing but a fink. I can see how starched assessors from the city will arrive sorry, mate, you are not covered for this loss, though we're happy you were lucky and came out at least alive this catastrophy is just a doublecross. Act of God we call this, really and the policy is void you may take it up with Him or with the priest but cheer up, you look so gloomy, quite depressed and well, annoyed I invite you to the agents' sausage feast. Get some tucker in your tummy and your mind on other things have a stubby and some cake, a bit of booze, there are those who did not make it and their souls grew final wings it is destiny, but don't you sing the blues.