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The Story Of Old JackAway out on the scattered briggalo flats Miles from the main homestead~ How were they to know that old jack Lay near a log three days dead~ They never worried about him much He just rode out each and every day~ To dig out as much bracken fern as he could To earn his weekly pay~ He was missed only when He never picked up his weekly meat~ So the boss rode out to check on him And the first thing he saw was old jacks feet~ Jack was getting on a bit by now He must have been fifty plus~ He lived down by the back shed dam In what was left of an old ex school bus~ He had been working on this spread for years And he always lived alone~ Worked almost all of his entire life And he usually only spent weekends at home~ Old Jack ... poor old Jack He was never one to yarn ay all~ Hardly ever said a single word A quiet man about five and a half foot tall~ Now his life is over And they all miss old jack being around~ And so strangly it seems hauntingly quieter Since old jack left without a sound~ Terrence Michael Sutton copyright 1978 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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