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Around
The Boree Log
Oh stick
me in the old caboose this night of wind and rain
And let the doves of fancy loose to bill and coo again
I want to feel the pulse of love that warmed the blood like wine
I want to see the smile above this kind old land of mine
So come
you by your parted ways that wind the wide world through
And make a ring around the blaze the way we used to do
The "fountain" on the sooted crane will sing the old, old
song
Of common joys in homely vein forgotten, ah, too long
The years
have turned the rusted key, and time is on the jog
Yet spend another night with me around the boree log*.
Now someone
driving through the rain will happen in I bet
So fill the fountain up again and leave the table set
For this was ours with pride to say - and all the world defy
No stranger ever turned away, no neighbour passed us by.
Bedad, he'll
have to stay the night, the rain is going to pour
So make the rattling windows tight and close the kitchen door
And bring the old lopsided chair, the tattered cushion too
We'll make the stranger happy there, the way we used to do
The years
have turned the rusted key, and time is on the jog
Yet spend another night with me around the boree log.
He'll fill
his pipe and good and well and all aglow within
We'll hear the news he has to tell, the yarns** he has to spin
Yarns, yes, and super yarns, forsooth, to set the eyes agog
And freeze the blood of trusting youth around the boree log
Then stir
it up and make it burn, the pokers next to you
Come let us poke it all in turn, the way we used to do
There's many a memory bright and fair will tingle at a name
But leave unstirred the embers there we cannot fan to flame
For years
have turned the rusted key and time is on the jog
Still, spend the fleeting night with me around the boree log.
John O'Brien
* Boree
Log - Aboriginal name for the wood of the Weeping Myall
** Yarn - A story, often loosely based on fact and then
exaggerated considerably. Sometimes funny, but sometimes terrifying.
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