Just the two of us .. Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBarkPoet
and one of them his name was Tom the other bloke
was me.
Two young coves far away from home who from life
had been tossed
no family, no loving arms, two souls wandering and
lost.
We’d met whilst in the orphanage, a dark and dreary
place
where there was no love ever lost, nor smiles on
any face.
They fed and clothed us true enough, but beatings
there were many
and some deserved, I will not lie – but they were
ten a penny.
Tom was only a little lad and always was in strife
he’d not the strength to face them down, they
slowly sapped his life
He cried a lot and ran away, they always bought him
back
the life spark faded as red weals on his skin
snaked a track.
The day that I turned fifteen was the day they saw
me gone
and at my side and sticking close was my mate
little Tom
He was about fourteen by then, but skinny and not
tall
and looked as if he’d never do a fair days work at
all.
And I was just the opposite – well over six feet
tall
though there were few who’d mess with me I ‘d take
on one and all.
Although we seemed a motley pair, we rubbed along
quite well
became best mates, still are today. Arguments none
to tell.
We’d rescued a small pup one day some bastard had
thrown out.
Tied up inside a hessian sack and terrified no
doubt.
They’d tossed her from the trestle bridge into the
muddy creek,
pure luck that young Tom fetching water heard her
tiny squeak.
So now ‘twas just the two of us plus one tramping
the road
the little kelpie Foo- Loorey was not a heavy load.
She bought such joy into our lives and love. She
made us weak
from laughing at her antics, far too breathless
then to speak.
She chased her tail and shadows and most every bird
that flew
and then behind us trotted on, small red tail held
askew.
At night when Boobooks called and glided by on
silent wings
she raced to Tom a’tremble , scared by these
mysterious things.
But as she grew and as we grew our courage we did
muster
and soon we realized none of us were scared by
bluff and bluster.
We earnt our reputation as two blokes who didn’t
shirk
and Foo-Loorey’s good genes kicked in, she excelled
at sheep work.
And there is much I could expose that happened o’er
the years.
We both donned uniform for king and fought despite
our fears.
We both survived though God knows how, and returned
to this shore.
Both married, both raised families, weren’t rich
but never poor.
And Foo dogs – well there’s been a few and each one
held a place
within our hearts, but Foo-Loorey’s no longer in
the race.
I miss hearing her strident yap – when telling her
to speak
when pushing wethers up the race. Around their
heels she’d sneak.
And now there’s just the two of us and we’re
hitting the track
though not on old Shanks pony we’ve a serviceable
hack.
A worn and battered Land Rover who ain’t no speed
machine
but neither a show pony so I doubt we’ll keep her
clean.
And Tom and I are retracing some roads travelled
before
our kids are grown, and wives have flown we’re
neither quite done for.
We’ve had a hankering to sit before a flickering
fire
and there is no time now to waste fulfilling that
desire.
We’ll camp down by the river where the yellow belly
lurk
and just enjoy the solitude and bugger doing work.
We’ll raise a tin to Foo-Loorey and sleep beneath
the gums
and thank the Lord he had the sense to make us two blokes chums.
