The Pilbara Poem by Allen Steble The Philosophical Poet

Not a cloud in the vast red sky
Nor a drop in the dried up rivers
But the Mercury sure is high
Enough to make you quiver

Not a single drop of rain
In the many months past
But the humidity sure is insane
Seventy percent and climbing fast

This here sure is the devil's land
He'll make you rich but burn your soul
And the flies here are like the sands
Countless...and will buzz into your every hole

So for the folk who so dwell
In the land of whispy white snow
This place for you will feel like hell
If here it is you choose to go.

There'll be sweat on your forehead
And sweat running Down your back
And don't think your alone when you go to bed
Those sticky-feet gecko's come out in packs

So come check out the great red Pilbara
And come stay for a rounds of beers
It'll be so good to see ya
Cheers!


The Pilbara