Ribald Classic: The Boss's Wife
May, 1978
The warm winds crossed from the eastern coast,Grew hot through the mountain passesAnd picked up the breath of the burning plainsAnd touched on the station grasses.And the grasses shriveled, all dry and brown,And shrunk to a dusty grayAnd the brown earth cracked, as the fiery droughtCame down to the land to stay.The waters in on the homestead holesSank down to the blue-clay rim,And the ibis came in their circling flocksTo feast on the bony bream.'Twas shift all stock to the breeders' run,With nev...
