I am the Bullock Driver

I am the Bullock Driver

 

I am the bullock driver

Whose life is full of hardship

No friends have I, no comrades

The outback and I share friendship

 

For miles and miles on

Not a thing in my sight

Except for the glittering sand

And the silvery moon of the night

 

I am the king of the desert

My throne made of golden sand

I ride upon my cattle-drawn chariot

I rule with rein in hand

 

For weeks or even months

Home, I shall not return

My life: tis of no excitement

Like that of a flowerless fern

 

I hear the cattle clatter their feet

And clunk together their horns

The scattering of bush creatures

And the bird’s cries and mourns

 

I drive my bullocks for miles

Through the scorching heat of the day

Through the freezing breezes of the night

But nowt can I say

 

Nowt can I whine

Nowt can I complain

Though this loneliness can be depressing

So much, I’ll turn insane

 

The cattle never mind it though

Never do they whine

They have their friends and their family

Family? None here of mine

 

I am the bullock driver

Who drives the cattle form town to town

I must travel many sandy paths

Travel up dunes and then back down

 

This life is very difficult

How hard no one believes

I gain no gratitude for the job I do

For this, every bullocky grieves

 

I travel from village to town

With the bullocks at my side

I have sovereignty over the deserts

With no laws, do I abide

 

 

I sustain utmost courage

I wield the cracking, stinging whip

And a loaded Colt revolver

In the holster at my hip

 

O’er the remote earth

Tis like I am on many exiles

A ruler o’ this lone kingdom

From civilisation - many miles

 

I am the bullock driver

A hard job is what I do

Many years I have travelled

But the journeys? Yet a few…

--Diloshaan Sripathy