David Keig

Rookie - 13 Points (1951 / UK)

The Train Winds West From Wagga - Poem by David Keig

The train winds west from wagga
Me - sitting sweating from the sun
My swag up on the swaying rack
Me - beholden to no-one.

It's a morning on the sky line
The sun slides slanting rays
The countryside is counting
In years and not in days.

Way out west of wagga
Is where the journey ends
I’m off to find my people
And cast off city friends.

My mob came from out that country
That the white folks made their own
They sent us off to rail yards
And Redfern was our home.

It’s hard there housed in Redfern
Caught between two worlds
The white man's world don't see us
Us cut off from our birth.

The line sings out its rhythm
The sound of wheel on rail
The wheels made in those workshops
Those workshops were our gaol.

Way out west of wagga
I’m sure that I’ll find my mob
I’m told they’re drinking swearing
With more flies than there are jobs.

Yeah, I drank drinks with the piper
Lost control and do not know
Why what is west of wagga
Is now where i must go.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 7, 2005



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