THE LAMENT OF CHARLES E. BYRD
The Bindymurra Annual Show
was in its second day
and I was rolling in the dough,
“How come?” I hear you say.
Well, Daisy, pride of all my herd
had won the main event.
Annabelle the third
the stud cow owned by Charles E. Byrd;
a hoity toity hob nob gent.
This losing to a commoner
was more than Charles could bear.
“I am a man of honour sir
and surely it is fair
to shout a drink on your good win,
it’s customary here;
perhaps a tonic with some gin?”
“You’re joking mate!” and rubbed me chin
I’ll stick to drinking beer.”
“Darn drought you know lost us the Show,
it’s been a torrid time.
Poor Lancelot was first to go
a stud bull in his prime.
You’d not believe our run of luck
our best cows lost I fear,
but Byrds though are not short of pluck,
tradition rises when we’re stuck,
we fronted all the same.
Our Annabelle has breeding sir,
though victim of the drought
and surely sir you would concur
she would have won no doubt.
Not taking anything away
from your good Daisy though,
but surely breeding must hold sway
and common cows have had their day
as you would surely know.”
“I understand your plight old mate,
I’ve had my troubles too.
Our herd has suffered the same fate,
my numbers cut in two.
“Good lord old man, a tragic blow,
your numbers cut in half?”
“Fraid so old mate and wouldn’t you know
it happened just a week ago;
poor Daisy lost her calf.
From the book Laughter and Tears From the Bush