Meandering Wagga – Jo Wilson-Ridley

Crows are flying, time is dying

Red sky climbing, river winding

 

Should we forsake the double name?

Debate “Gumly-Gumly” Wagga game

 

Should we laugh—a wave at five

Should we weep—this town does die

 

So we keep the deep wide river bends

That straddles families, foes and friends

 

Once every hundred—floods come yearly now

Drowns the town right down from banks to ground

 

Debris littered stains marks nature’s wrath

As home-wrecked families cope this aftermath

 

Next year’s fortunes—paddocks dry and bare

Withered sun soaked crops—for water’s rare

 

So we crawl those pubs and take that toll

Climb that rock—this life’s no stroll

 

Rake red soil we toil, than fist pump the hay

Blends city with town like dawn thru to day