June 2, 2017

The Shearer

“ The Shearer ”

Listen to JT recite his poem …

He won’t push back the bat wings
On a catchin’ pen no more
Flick rivers of sweat from his brow
As he yanks the hand-piece chord

And the bottle he drank at cut-out
Will never taste the same no more
Cos he’s opted for the haul-pack
And ‘dozer on the mine
Working day or night shift
And he’s lost the rhythm of time

An air-conditioned coach cruise
Out to work and back
Doesn’t hold a candle
To a shearer’s truck on track
Rushin’ sandy crossings
Shovin’ pushin’ back and fillin’
Another shed next week.

He won’t push back the bat wings
On a catchin’ pen no more
But I’ll bet he’ll sit and reminisce
Of all the sheep he’d shore
Of ev’ry track he travel’d
As he rove from shed to shed
Of every yarn was ever ‘ad
Round every cut-out keg

John Taylor’s novel, “The Ute” – now under $5

the ute book by john taylor now available at

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March 2, 2015 ,

Slap and Tickle

Slap and Tickle’s carting super,
Slap and Tickle’s carting grain
Launching, loaded off a gravel
ridge at Erragula plain.

Heading for the highway,
bins a good way off,
sou-wester kicking gently in,
following road trains.

Silos rearing skywards,
bull pen line-ups chock-a-block.
White caps tumble endlessly,
grain ships anchored off.

Road trains inching slowly,
Grain receival gratings flow,
grids bared, polished silver
as trailers unload and go.

Tip bins joggle on their mounts.
Heading back, back further out.
Nest of field bins, chasers race,
‘longside headers pouring grain.

Slap and Tickle’s loaded
Roll tarps firmly clipped in place.
Off she roars
back in the race

Slap and Tickle had a refit,
Engines done a million K
the chassis and cross members
showed a bit of pain.

Sand blast and a paint job,
tensioned up against the strain,
Slap and Tickle back-loads super
with each load of golden grain.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.

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February 2, 2015

They Will Go Forever

They will go forever
Following the line
On and on wherever
Load ‘er up and try
Rivers running bankers,
cross mountains as they fly.
Down a range on bull dust flats.
Hours and days crawl by.
Lost out in the loneliness
Of guide post silent nights
Welcome morning star appears,
heralding first light.

They will go forever
Following the line.

1 Comment

Flat Out
The Shearer
Happy Christmas 2016
Slap and Tickle
They Will Go Forever