Had broken through a fence and galloped off towards the creek
The word, it passed down main street like a case of winter flu
By crikey, this was bad! McGee did not know what to do—
The bull of Clarence River was in awful bloody strife
The flood was rising rapid now; that creek could claim his life
Joey’s gaze landed, finally, on Kirsty, and that—thing—in his chest melted into a warm, warm glow. She was really here. Back home, in Clarence.
She hadn’t seen him. She was smiling down at the crowd, as though sharing a joke with old friends. She looked … happy. The shadows that had been in her eyes since the day he’d stumbled upon her in his cowshed had gone.
Going home—toherhome, all those hundreds of miles away, where he didn’t live—had been good for her. Perhaps he’d been wrong … misread what he’d thought he’d come to mean to her.
He planted his shoulder against a marquee post and let the crowd in front of him keep him out of view. Kirsty was flying high again … if she’d chosen to do it solo, then that would be something he’d have to learn to live with.
So Hogey yelled, ‘I’ll grab my ute, it’s tough enough to cope!
‘We’ll tow that brute to safety, mate, now quick, go grab a rope.’
But when he pulled up by the bank the creek was running wild
The flood was past his wheels, and past his roo-bar; past his pride
And on the other side by god, that bull! Its eyes were wide!
Its great hooves they were sinking down, the mud was like a slide
That bull was done for, all but dead, Hogey could only frown
Nothing could be done but watch the champion slowly drown
He clapped the shoulder of the wailing farmer Tim McGee
He said, ‘I’ve let you down, mate, what a bloody tragedy.’
But in the rain behind him flashed a blur of aqua green
The man! Atop the moped! Face as fierce as can be!