Rain from Nowhere |
Written by Murray Hartin |
His cattle didn't get a bid, they were fairly
bloody poor
What was he going to do? He couldn't feed them anymore The dams were all but dry, hay was thirteen bucks a bale, Last month's talk of rain was just a fairy tale |
His credit had run
out, no chance to pay what's owed
Bad thoughts ran through his head as he drove down gully road Geez great granddad bought the place in 1898 now I'm such a useless bastard I'll have to shut the gate |
Can't support
my wife and kids, not like dad and those before
Crikey grandma kept it going while pop fought in the war With depression now his master, he abandoned what was right There's no place in life for failures, he'd end it all tonight There were still some things to do, he'd have to shoot the cattle first Of all the jobs he'd ever done, that would be the worst |
He'd have a
shower, watch the news, then they'd all sit down for tea
Read his kids a bedtime story, watch some more TV Kiss his wife goodnight, say he was off to shoot some roos Then in a paddock far way he'd blow away the blues But he drove in the gate and stopped - as he always had To check the roadside mailbox - and found a letter from his dad Now his dad was not a writer, his mum did all the cards and mail But he new the writing from the notebooks that he used at cattle sales He sensed the nature of it's contents, felt moisture in his eyes Just the fact his dad had written was enough to make him cry "Son I know it's bloody tough, it's a cruel and twisted game This life upon the land when you're screaming out for rain There's no candle in the darkness, not a single speck of light But don't let the demon get you, you have to do what's right I don't know what's in your head, but push the bad thoughts well away See you'll always have your family at the backend of the day You have to talk to someone and yes I know I rarely did But you have to think about Fiona and think about the kids I'm worried about you son, you haven't rung for quite a while I know the road you're on, cause I've walked every bloody mile The date December 7 back in 1983, Behind the shed I had the shotgun rested in the brigalow tree See I'd borrowed way too much to buy the Johnson place Then it didn't rain for years, and we got bombed by interest rates The bank was at the door, I didn't think I had a choice I began to squeeze the trigger - That's when I heard your voice You said "Where are you daddy it's time to play our game I've got squatter all setup, we might get general rain It really was that close, you're the one that stopped me son And you're the one that taught me there's no answer in a gun Just remember people love you, good friends won't let you down look you might have to swallow pride and take that job in town Just till things come good son, you've always got a choice And when you get this letter ring me, cause I'd love to hear you're voice Well he cried and laughed and shook his head and put the truck in gear Shut his eyes and hugged his dad, in a vision that was clear Dropped the cattle at the yards, put the truck away Filled the troughs the best he could, and fed his last 10 bales of hay Then he strode towards the homestead, shoulders back and head held high He still knew the road was tough, but there was purpose in his eye He called his wife and children who'd lived through all his pain Hugs said more than words - he'd come back to them again They talked of silver linings, how good times always follow bad Then he walked towards the phone, picked it up and called his dad Then while the kids setup the squatter, he hugged his wife again Then they heard the roll of thunder and smelt the smell of rain Copyright Dream Films February 21 2007 |