The Day the Land Went on The Man
You hear a lot of new chum talk
about going on the land
and raising record crops of wheat
on rocks and flaming sand.
Now I hates to exaggerate or skite
but if you likes I can
authenticate a case
when the land went on the man.
Now, Bill Jones owned a mountain block
down Kosciusko way
farmed it pretty nigh to death
the neighbours used to say
He scarified it’s surface
with his double furrow ploughs
and ate its blinding heart right out
with sheep and milking cows.
He filled its blamed intestines
with agricultural pipes
and lime and superphosphate
fit to give the land the gripes.
Until at length this tortured soil
worn out by Joneses thrift
decided as the time had come
to up and make a shift.
One day it sort of shook its self
and give a little groan
the neighbours were a lot more scared
than they were game to own.
Their jaws were dropped upon their chests
their mouths were open wide
as they saw the whole of Joneses farm
upend its self and slide.
It slithered down the mountain spur
majestic like and slow
and landed in the river bed
one thousand feet below.
Now Bill Jones was on the lower slope
of his long suffering farm
checking a new fangled plough
which acted like a charm.
He’d just been doing up a nut
when something seemed to crack
and fifty acres, more or less
came down on Joneses back.
One minute he’d been standing up
owning all that land
the next he’s in eternity
a spanner in his hand.
They never dug up no remains
or scraps of William Jones
the superphosphate ate the lot
hide, buttons, boots and bones.
For this here land what Jones abused
and harrassed in the past
had turned and wiped him out
and things got evened up at last.
So all you ‘cocky’ coves
whats saving up your screws
to get upon the land
look out the land don’t get on yous.
Anonymous
