Sit for a while on the hungry mile, atop of the high steps.
Your mind turns to the Great Depression.
These were the men who did not eat in style.
Their minds grew dim their bodies slim.
Starvation & salvation went hand in hand.
Ordinary folk of the Great Depression.
Most were family men, it was not a time for confession.
Each day before the dawn, they headed for the finger wharves of the Darling Harbour.
On Hickson road “the hungry mile”,it was a mile long & very wide.
A landing strip for the hungry looking for work, like pelicans they flocked.
It was not a hand out they wanted.
Up to the gates they went two by two, heading for an Arc run by Noah, yeah right!
Their faces all sullen & hands of steel, with minds of granite rocks could not & would not feed.
Their hearts in their hands because they were wretched working men.
They are the wearers of the Stevedore strap with hooks for bales.
The ships of the line, were loading wool.
The devilish hungry men needed to lift a mountain, these heavy wool bales.
Stinking of wool grease, almost stale!
Bluey the basted taller than a tree.
Stared into the eyes to seek the men of a week knee.
Because he was the keeper of the “Bull system”. like sheep in a run the job start would be won or lost.
Bluey, of course did not give a toss!
If you are not fit, I'll give you the drum.
We will see you another day, on your way!
Blasted mongrel muttered the man as he went on his way.
He had escaped the slavery, but would not draw pay.