SEND ‘ER DOWN, HUEY!

“Hey, send ‘er down ‘ere, Huey lad!” the worried cockies say.

They search the sky for signs of rain that never come their way.

But Huey doesn’t listen much – or so it seems to them,

They used to get good rain outback, just can’t remember when.

“The dust baths keep the chooks real clean, might have to do the same

Unless the clouds cooperate and bring some flamin’ rain.

The bottom of me drought-proof dam’s a dried up lumpy bog,

And yesterday, me citrus trees were chasin’ me neighbour’s dog.

The council called a special meetin’ just the other day

To try to solve the water crisis; said there’s just no way

In current drought conditions, that the pool could be maintained.

It’s using too much water – so they closed the outside lanes.”

A spot struck hard between his eyes, as the whinger rambled on.

He thought it was a passing bird, but all the birds were gone.

Another spot then hit his neck and ran on down his back

And looking up he saw the clouds, flat-bellied, big and black.

With two weeks gone, the rain still fell. It tumbled from the sky,

And creeks and dams all overflowed, their levels record high.

“For Pete’s sake, Huey, that’s enough! Save some for later on.

We’ll end up in New Zealand soon. That’s where our topsoil’s gone.”

The clouds sailed on, the mud dried up, and grass and crops grew fast

And once again the whinger spoke “just look at that bloody grass!

It’s bushfires next, you wait and see,” but the cockies gave a grin.

“No worries, mate. She’ll be all right but that whingin’s wearin’ thin.”