AnswerID: 484380 Submitted: Friday, Apr 27, 2012 at 15:13
Member - Doug T (NT)
THE WOMAN FROM ADELAIDE
RIVER by D.R.Tilley
There was movement at the station, for the rumor had passed around
That the bloody tourists from Mt Bundy had got away,
And had joined the wild blacks - they weren't worth a cent,
So all the idiots had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted drivers from the stations near and far
Had gathered at the homestead overnight,
For the locals love hard driving where the rough four wheel drives are,
And the Toyota's do the battle with delight.
There was Beck, who made a dollar when Gunsynd won the cup,
woman with her face showing true grit ;
But few could drive beside her when her blood was fairly up -
She would go wherever car and woman could go and couldn't give a sh- it.
So Pam came across the river came over to lend a hand,
No better driver ever held the wheel;
For never car could toss her while the seat
belts would stand,
She learnt to drive while driving on the plains.(got me buggered)
So Pam was there, a stripling in a little useless beast,
It was something like a supercar undersized,
And such as are by station drivers prized.
It was tough and strong and powerful - just the type that kept ahead -
And it bore
the badge of toyota on it's new and shiny paint,
And the proud owner sometimes kept her head.
But still so slight and seedy, one would doubt it's power to stay,
And the station owner Scott said, "That crap heap will never do
for a long and tiring drive - girl, you'd better keep away,
Those flood plains are far too rough for such as you."
So Pam waited sad and wistful - only Doug stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let her come," he said;
"I warrant she'll be with us when she's wanted at the end,
For both her and car are Darwin
"She now hails from Adelaide
River, up in the top end
Where the plains are twice as flat and twice as rough,
Where a woman that holds her own is good enough.
And the Adelaide
River drivers on the plains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant Anthills between;
I have seen many drivers since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such drivers have I seen."
So she went (god help us) - they found the tourists by the big termite clump -
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And Scott gave his orders, "Boys n Girls, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy driving now.
And, Pam, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Drive boldly, girl, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was a driver that could keep the tourists in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those bloody hills."
So Pam drove to wheel them - she was racing on the wing
Where the best and gamest drivers take their place,
And she raced her Hilux past them, and she made the ranges ring
With the rifle, as she met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while she fired a dreaded flash,
But they saw their planned escape full in view,
And they all bolted beneath the rifle with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off onto the country scrub they flew.
Then fast all the drivers followed, where the mud was deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the rifles woke the echoes, and the tourists answered back (get stuffed)
From hills and trees that leaned overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild drivers held their way,
Where Iron wood and paper barks grow wide;
And Scott muttered fiercely, "We may bid the tourists good day,
No man or woman can hold them down the other side."
When they reached the flood plains edge, even Pam hit the brake,
It well might make the boldest drivers take another breath,
The soft mud was thick, and the ground was full
Of pig holes, and any mistake was death.
But the woman from Adelaide
River pointed her Hilux full ahead,
And she swung her rifle above her head and gave a cheer,
And she raced across the flood plain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others parked and watched in very fear.
She sent the mud clods flying, but the Hilux kept it's feet,
She cleared the fallen timber in her strive,
And the woman from Adelaide
River never shifted in her seat
It was grand to see that woman drive.
Through the paperbarks and saplings, on the rough and muddy ground,
Across the plains at a racing pace she went;
And she never touched the brake untill she was safe and sound,
On the other side of that terrible ground.
She was right among the tourists as they climbed another hill
And the watchers on the flood plain edge standing mute,
Saw her ply the rifle fiercely, she was right among them still,
As she raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost her for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild tourists racing yet,
With the woman from Adelaide
River at their heels.
And she ran them single-handed till their faces were white with fear.
She followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted puffed and beaten, then she turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back for well earned beer.
But the hardy toyota hilux could scarcely raise some speed,
It was dented from back to bonnet from Pam's hardy deed;
For never yet was the Hilux not in the lead.
And down near the river, where the little kids do play.
The torn and ripped tyres do lay,
Where the air is hot and humid, and the sunrises fairly blaze
At midnight in the warm and balmy sky,
And where around The creeks the reeds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling flood plains are alive,
The womaman from Adelaide
River is a household word today,
And the drivers still tell the story of her drive.
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