Old Tom lived in the cottage
A mile from the boundary gate
Chooks & dogs enjoyed his bed
On the floor – at his head
The mattress had seen better days
But was happy in its rest
Old Tom and friends had kept it warm
Of that I can attest
No one knew from whence he came
Just wandered to our door
Dad said old man, ‘Do you want a bed’
He nodded and moved his store
On Saturdays, when he ventured out
Walking to our town
You’d see him with his hessian bag
His hat sloped neatly down
And often as you drove on back
You’d sight him in the scrub
More dishevelled than before
His hat now sloping back
And sometimes
As you drove the ute
And stopped at the boundary gate
Tom was on the other side
Passed out with his dusty mate
He thought he’d climbed into his bed
He was as merry as one can be
Laying askew in the red dirt clay
With bottles empty of glee
On other days, you’d find him
curled up in Taffys’ hide
Happy that he’d make it home
To his mate with the red-brown eyes
Tom was there for many a year
And yet one day was not
No one knows from whence he’s gone
But we know he loved his lot!
If Taffy could wave, and say goodbye
I’m sure he would but try
And even an old kelpie can hold
A tear in his red-brown eye,
Yes, a tear in his red-brown eye
For his friend named Tom
Would never again
Be resting at his head
Yes, his old friend Tom
Was surely gone
And most likely was quite dead.
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