A Day In The Boots Of A Jillaroo

Out in the bush, where the red dirt flies,

Lives a jillaroo, under wide blue skies.

She's up with the kookaburras, at the crack of dawn,

With her trusty dog, Dusty, and a stretch and yawn.

Kitted out in her dusty Akubra and boots,

She's ready for the day, no city suits.

A flannie shirt, worn and true,

Jeans tough as nails, and a spirit that grew.

Her brekkie's a snag on the barbie, quick and hot,

Then it's off to the paddocks, to give it all she's got.

Mustering cattle, fixing fences with might,

Riding her horse, a true-blue sight.

She's a crack rider, swift and sure,

Over bush tracks, her heart so pure.

With Dusty by her side, loyal and keen,

Together they're a team, a working machine.

Lunch is a bite under the shade of a gum,

A meat pie, some billy tea, then back to the sum.

She toils under the sun, no task too tough,

In the outback's classroom, she's learnt enough.

The men treat her fair, she's one of the crew,

Tough as nails, through and through.

Respect she earns, with each passing day,

In the dusty arena, where she holds sway.

As the sun sets, painting the sky,

She gathers with mates, under stars high.

They spin yarns, laugh and share,

In the outback pub, without a care.

But dreams, oh they flicker, in her outback heart,

Of a land she loves, where she's a part.

She dreams of a station, her own someday,

Under the southern cross, where she'll forever stay.

So there's the life of a jillaroo, bold and free,

In the heart of the outback, where she's meant to be.

With her dog, her horse, and a life so grand,

She's a daughter of the bush, in this sunburnt land.

© Peter Pickering 2024. www.peterpickering.com