Possum Poem by Francis Duggan

There was an old bloke his nickname was Possum he lived along by the Murray river years ago
One who lived in harmony with Mother Nature and about Nature little he did not know
He migrated to Australia from New Zealand as a young man and to his Homeland he never did return
And he lived without a home in Nature's garden and from the life of one like him we do have much to learn.

By Max Jones the country detective and author in book form Possum's story has been told
For many years he slept in hollow logs in the open and the amazing thing is that he lived to be old
Without welfare or any sort of an income for money was a thing he did not need
He did not need any cash in the outback since Nature supplied him with every feed.

From Wentworth in New South Wales to Renmark in South Australia in length and breadth that does seem quite a span
The countryside frequented by old Possum he surely was a true nomadic man
In the sparsely populated Riverlands he became a well known character a fleeting glimpse of Possum walking by
And by all accounts he was helpful and generous despite the fact that he was rather shy.

In his his younger years Possum was a top class shearer though every shearer has a use by date
But the money that he earned he gave to poor wanderers and children his needs were little though his soul was great
He died under the stars in the vast outback
In eleven degrees below zero the night was cold
He had survived to a ripe old age for a homeless nomad an octogenarian of 81 years old.

Max Jones the author he deserves much credit for writing the story of poor Possum's life
He was a man who did not father children a nomad who did not have kin or wife
Yet don't tell me that his life was not a success since to help out others he went out of his way
And it well could be that the winners of the future could be the type referred to as losers today.