Array ( [sid] => 104818 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => OUT ON THE OUTBACK ROAD [time] => 2005-09-01 02:07:38 [hometext] => [bodytext] =>

'OUT ON THE OUTBACK ROAD.'

by Robert Davidson.


Once I was a rough and reckless rock 'n' roller,
Spendin' many night a-singin' out on the outback road;
When you'd hear me a-thumpin' on my electric guitar,
You'd never guess I'd been a-drinkin' such a heavy load.

One night a-standin' up there on a makeshift stage,
In a town I forget somewhere out on the outback trail;
I'd spent so many nonstop nights out on the road,
Didn't realise my singin' act was gettin' kinda stale.

Many people in town said the music was far too loud,
And more than once a fight broke out, which spoilt the fun.
That last night an old stockman came a-stridin' into the hall,
He carried a coiled-up whip and a long-loaded gun,
Shouted 'rock 'n' roll was just the devil's own nasty sound,'
He shot the drummer dead; then had me on the run.

Next day the cops shot that stockman on the edge of town,
But I point my finger at myself for that episode;
Because I spiked that stockman's beer just before the show,
Now I'm spendin' no more nights out on the outback road. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 273 [topic] => 21 [informant] => robertdavidson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 12 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - OUT ON THE OUTBACK ROAD


OUT ON THE OUTBACK ROAD
Date: Thursday, 1st September 2005 @ 02:07:38 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: robertdavidson


'OUT ON THE OUTBACK ROAD.'

by Robert Davidson.


Once I was a rough and reckless rock 'n' roller,
Spendin' many night a-singin' out on the outback road;
When you'd hear me a-thumpin' on my electric guitar,
You'd never guess I'd been a-drinkin' such a heavy load.

One night a-standin' up there on a makeshift stage,
In a town I forget somewhere out on the outback trail;
I'd spent so many nonstop nights out on the road,
Didn't realise my singin' act was gettin' kinda stale.

Many people in town said the music was far too loud,
And more than once a fight broke out, which spoilt the fun.
That last night an old stockman came a-stridin' into the hall,
He carried a coiled-up whip and a long-loaded gun,
Shouted 'rock 'n' roll was just the devil's own nasty sound,'
He shot the drummer dead; then had me on the run.

Next day the cops shot that stockman on the edge of town,
But I point my finger at myself for that episode;
Because I spiked that stockman's beer just before the show,
Now I'm spendin' no more nights out on the outback road.

This poem is Copyright © robertdavidson


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