Bora born
Kundai _
Look out brother now here it comes
do you hear that wail and whistle
your senses scream, oh please don't go
on the dogtown sly grog special.
It left town at the crack of dawn
from the place of many waters
for dogtown, six hours drive down south
near the gulf savannah lander.
Three in the front one in the back
as they passed by Dunbar Station
old Kundai didn't want to go
he would rather stay home napping.
His belly laugh known far and wide
for that smile many would cherish
a laugh, that would hook your ear
like Kenny Savo's up at Cody.
They say he was _ drunk as could be
that day at the pub in dogtown
freezing cold on a rum filled day
then home in their flying coffin.
Knocked right out asleep in the back
as they drove that dusty highway
the sly grog special roaring on
through their bulldust, whistle wailing.
Drawing close on those rails of night
the conductor entered his dream
old Kundai still dead to the world
saw his ticket punched with his name.
At clarke creek the accident came
no luck on that wretched corner
the witless fool who drove that night
lived, while Kundai's neck broke open.
Belching steam with a howling wail
came the night train that cold dark night
pulling up close for my old friend
as his spirit leapt out in fright.
To see his lot in an instant
not wanting to pass on over
and take that ticket from that large
bony hand, something was missing.
This was his country Kundai thought
with no intention of leaving
thanks for the lift, but not this time
I love life, and here I'm staying.
This past year, another two died
driving through that blooded corner
one thrown out, then walked about
time zoned, cheating his blade runner.
They still see him there, at clarke creek
barefoot in his old flannel shirt
Road trains stop to give him a lift
to drop him on Dunbar's old dirt.
Sometime soon we will pass his way
at that creek past Dunbar Station
amidst the dust and cattle bones
and somehow get his attention.
Then show old Kundai his way home
to that Kokoberra country
old one's there silently wait at
his dreaming trail near the topsy.
- O -
© nov 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
do you hear that wail and whistle
your senses scream, oh please don't go
on the dogtown sly grog special.
It left town at the crack of dawn
from the place of many waters
for dogtown, six hours drive down south
near the gulf savannah lander.
Three in the front one in the back
as they passed by Dunbar Station
old Kundai didn't want to go
he would rather stay home napping.
His belly laugh known far and wide
for that smile many would cherish
a laugh, that would hook your ear
like Kenny Savo's up at Cody.
They say he was _ drunk as could be
that day at the pub in dogtown
freezing cold on a rum filled day
then home in their flying coffin.
Knocked right out asleep in the back
as they drove that dusty highway
the sly grog special roaring on
through their bulldust, whistle wailing.
Drawing close on those rails of night
the conductor entered his dream
old Kundai still dead to the world
saw his ticket punched with his name.
At clarke creek the accident came
no luck on that wretched corner
the witless fool who drove that night
lived, while Kundai's neck broke open.
Belching steam with a howling wail
came the night train that cold dark night
pulling up close for my old friend
as his spirit leapt out in fright.
To see his lot in an instant
not wanting to pass on over
and take that ticket from that large
bony hand, something was missing.
This was his country Kundai thought
with no intention of leaving
thanks for the lift, but not this time
I love life, and here I'm staying.
This past year, another two died
driving through that blooded corner
one thrown out, then walked about
time zoned, cheating his blade runner.
They still see him there, at clarke creek
barefoot in his old flannel shirt
Road trains stop to give him a lift
to drop him on Dunbar's old dirt.
Sometime soon we will pass his way
at that creek past Dunbar Station
amidst the dust and cattle bones
and somehow get his attention.
Then show old Kundai his way home
to that Kokoberra country
old one's there silently wait at
his dreaming trail near the topsy.
- O -
© nov 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
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Kundai _
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