The Jackeroos New Whip

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This poem is based on an event that happened at Moola Bulla some years ago.

THE JACKEROOS NEW WHIP

The noise rang around the station and echoed through the creek,

When you were having a yarn you couldn’t hear yourself speak.

There were jackeroos with stock whips, learning all the cracks,

But they never used them when astride their horse’s backs.

All this blooming whip cracking was driving Dick insane,

He’d get minute or two of peace then mongrels started up again.

That’s it he thought I’ve had enough, so to the quarters he did drive,

And a jackeroo perfected the Sydney Flash, just as he did arrive.

The boss pulled up in a cloud of dust, got out and slammed the door,

His anger was obvious, and his look chilled me to the core.

But he just asked "Is that a good whip?" in a quiet friendly tone,

"To right" said the jackeroo clutching it like a dog would a bone.

But the boss just smiled and nodded, then asked if he could take a look,

As he reached out and the kangaroo hide whip, he calmly took.

Now the jackeroo was proud of his brand new seven foot whip,

It had a nice long cane handle, and a fancy plaited grip.

Every night outside the quarters, he'd practise with that thing,

With all manner of different cracks he'd make those ranges ring.

Sixteen Kangaroo hide strands a master craftsman piece of work,

Normally if anyone else touched his whip the young bloke went berserk.

This was different; shortly Dick would say that his whip was the best,

And that to own such a whip, well he must be truly blessed

But Dick now with whip in hand, he quickly turned his back.

Boy oh boy, was he ever sick to death of listening to it crack?

With pocket knife in hand he proceeded to turn seven foot into one,

The kangaroo hide whip was seven pieces, when he'd cut and done.

And the young bloke was dreaming of flicking flies off the back of a cow,

When the boss threw the pieces over his shoulder, and said,

”Crack the Bloody thing now!"

 © Corin Linch (Rewrite) 12/11/07