Australian Outback Poems

CINDER BLACK, OR COLD AND RAW! The most important bloke, they say, in every drover's crew, Is any fellow who can cook a roast or decent stew. But expert cooks have always been a little hard to find, Which brings, as often is the case, another tale to mind. We had a job in 'forty-eight, along an outback route, But didn't take our usual cook, we'd given him the boot! He'd been with us for several months, but we could not ignore That every meal was cinder black, or else completely raw! So we enquired about the place for some experienced cook; And, luckily, or so we thought, we hadn't far to look. It wasn't very long before a scruffy fellow came And said, "I've been a shearer's cook, and Joseph is my name." Joseph, as we quickly found, and each of us recall, Was not the cleanest bloke around; he rarely washed at all! He never wore his boots in camp, his feet were always bare, Except for several layers of grime to match his filthy hair! He did the cooking well enough, as far as we could tell, But everything we ate, it seemed, had similar taste and smell! The johnnie cakes and brownies, the potatoes and the stew, All smelt and tasted just the same, as did the billy's brew! We rarely saw him at his work, for we were on the Track, And he'd reach camp before us all and, naturally, unpack. Once preparations were complete, the meal was under way; So all was cooked when we arrived toward the end of day. But once our stockman, Davy, was feeling rather off, He had a stinking headache, and a very nasty cough. We told him that we'd manage, for him to go ahead, That's when he saw how Joseph the evening meal prepared! All the food that Joseph cooked was always shaped the same, No matter what went into it, or what the food was named. The dumplings, patties, brownies, they all were carefully pressed Beneath Joe's armpits, left or right, next to his hairy chest. And Joseph heavily perspired, he sweated like a pig: Sweat dripped into his cooking, but he didn't care a fig! It ran into the billy tea from matted whiskers grey, And so both drink and cooking tasted just the same each day! We managed to survive the trip, despite Joe's sweaty food; But, at the end, we paid him off, we didn't think it rude! We couldn't find another cook, except the one we'd had; But cinder black, or cold and raw, now didn't taste so bad!