Boris From Siberia Poem by Francis Duggan

He had the wanderlust in him ever since he was a boy
And he wandered far from his Homeland far even as the crow fly
He tramped the highways and byways and up and down many bush track
With his tent and foam mattress and pillow and his doona all
in his back pack.

Boris was born and raised in Siberia the Land where the harsh north winds blow
And he yearned for the warmer climates far from the cold and the snow
He tramped his way down through Asia slowly edging his way further south
Living on hare and on pheasant, patridge and rabbit and trout.

Boris arrived in Australia as a stowaway in a cattle boat
And his life would make a great story if such a story would be wrote
How did he get from Siberia without a bike or a car
Without I.D. or a passport you might say he travelled far? .

He never wished to father children and he never wished to take a wife
And he loved the highways and byways and he loved the wandering life
And when his day's tramping were over he would pitch his tent and bed down
By a quiet creek in the outback many miles out of the town.

With hand shears there never was better the top man in old shearing shed
He was an excellent shearer and each day shore one hundred head
But the shearing Season a short one and once again back on the road
For Boris the man from Siberia the one of no fixed abode.

Boris the man who loved Nature in his tent by the gum tree
He could hear the shy night creatures the voices of the wild and free
The boobook owl and tawny frogmouth, the repetitive croaking of the frog,
The cough of roo and hiss of possum and the howls of dingo
the wild dog.

And he would wake just before dawning half an hour before sun rise
To the laughter of the kookaburra and the white cocky's harsh cries
Light a fire to boil his billy and then begin his long walk for the day
And pitch his tent again at twilight twenty to thirty miles away.

In the shadows of a blackwood when the sun glowed in the sky
The remains of poor old Boris were found by a passer by
His one true love was Mother Nature and under Australian earth his bones now lay
Many miles from cold Siberia and the Northlands far away.