Les Murray

Farmer Les

 

 

Who’s that sitting on that log

Throwing a stick for his little black dog?

One of the Mitchells ? No, Farmer Les:

It's always interesting what he says;

The ground he merely gives a scratch

And words sprout up from his cabbage patch.

 

"You want to walk in the bush? Like any old dog I can smell a rat –

Urban elites who ought to know better than to behave like that;

What right have they? None. Exactly. They’re a common menace

Whether humping it over the hills or indulging in squash or tennis.

Only lost souls, strangers, the very poor or the very dead;

Smart-arse, placard waving cityites, the sick in the head,

Troublemaking tree-hugging greenies and lefty push

Travel as though they’ve a right to enjoy or love the bush.

The bush is a place more sacred, a place for those who belong

And anyone who (other than I say does) thinks they do – is wrong:

Bushwalkers,  striding around in little mobs and I'm mean;

Enough to suggest that nothing a mob pursues can be clean

The smell of them is worth no more than a country poet’s sneer

They walk to connect with the land? Well there not welcome here.

Nay. Not from me. Never. Not a step in their direction. No!

They smell like the bastards when I was a kid never gave me a go;

They think trees are more important than people - can you believe their cheek! -

When loose in the bush can’t be trusted not to shit in the creek.

Folk who belong (and their ghosts) know better – the true country breed

Never walk a Tailor's inch further than they absolutely have need;

Folk who belong know walkers are an over-privileged set

Ranked slightly below joggers – and frankly, that’s about as low as you can get:

To walk in the bush for the joy of the sense of adventure for what’s in store?

For the love of labour, and natural things? What the hell would you do that for?

They just do not belong. That is their fault, and in any case

The Mitchells here don’t like the look of them, and they own the place!"

 

Thank you Les for your elocution;

A thought provoking contribution.

So walkers you’ve been living lies –

So says one we know is wise

Toiling in his cabbage patch,

Throwing sticks for his dog to catch.

 

Colin Paul Gibson