The Dalwallinu Council Boys

I thought I should include my latest published poem in my blog, now that I have re-discovered my password! It was published in the WA Bush Poets and Yarnspinners monthly publication Bullytin, August 2015 edition. For the benefit of readers, Dalwallinu is a wheat belt town north of Perth on the edge of the pastoral land, the last of the agricultural area that is suitable for crop growing. It is 248 kms from Perth on the Great Northern Highway. Meekatharra, the base for the Flying Doctor radio is also on the highway and is 764kms from Perth and the station that we were on Oudabunna, was between the two towns, the turn off to the station at Paynes Find being on the same highway and about 370kms from Perth and 30 kms from Paynes Find, which, at the time we lived there, had only a tavern and petrol bowsers. Our radio codes were Oudabunna 8WIR - Eight Whisky India Romeo and Meekatharra was 8VKJ - Eight Victor Kilo Juliet. The time period is the 1960s and most of the Great Northern Highway north of the wheat belt area was gravel and rough. The Dalwallinu Council at that period was grading and repairing roads out in their farming district.

The Dalwallinu Council Boys

The Dalwallinu Council Boys
Were rebuilding roads anew,
Out in the bush with their council toys
Around the farms of Dalwallinu.

One hundred or so miles up north,

At ten o’clock for morning tea,
Pedal radios tuned and blared forth
Tales that women extolled with glee.

In the gravel, the dirt, the scrub and the dust,
Machinery all stopped their sound.
Smoko you see, the tuned radio a must
For the Dally boys to get their next round.

The women spoke of their troubles,

Their frustrations, their tears, their joys,
Unaware of their secret listeners,
The Dalwallinu Council boys.

The boys heard that Fabulon was useless,

And butter had melted with the heat
And to alleviate weight and the stress,
Splits up the door jamb would defeat.

The Dally boys home troubles the same,

As they listened amongst gravel and tar,
And promptly agreed on a nickname,
The Session of the Galah.

They learnt of lunches ‘n smokos, ‘n windmill runs,

Of mewsling, of crutching and shearing,
Of broken down vehicles, bucking horses and brums
Of sick dogs ‘n dead dogs ‘n drought appearing.

In stitches and with laughter rolling,
The Dalwallinu Council Boys sent a letter,
The Session of the Galah it was extolling,
To tell they hadn’t heard any better.

The women were really delighted

Of such a glowing epistle,
Each morning they happily recited
‘G’day’ to the boys out in the thistle.

 ‘Way south where the city was busy

Was boss Royal Flying Doctor base.
They heard all this radio tizzy
And decided they had to save face.

Dalwallinu Council received a letter,

To discipline its council boys,
To the women they even went one better
The pedal radio was not one of their toys.

So their cuppa tea listeners were banned,

And with a sigh the women did tune
Into their usual morning tea session,
And no ‘G’day’ to break the gloom.

Next time when travelling to the city

As one passed through Dalwallinu town,
A letter was dropped in the gritty
Machinery of boys that were ‘down’.

The Session of the Galah did continue,

Its listeners with delight a radio must,
Dalwallinu Council Boys already knew,
Listening out in the gravel, the dirt, and the dust.