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It's great to be back to be back home again!
We've shed our city suits.
Grandad calls across the yard,
"Now don't forget your boots ."
We won't forget our boots, old man,
We grew up here, remember.
Gumboots are a fact of life
From April to September.
Lined up on the verandah
They stand at stiff attention,
Every shape, and every size
That one would care to mention.
Try to don them in a hurry
And you'll trip, and fall, and curse.
But don't go out without 'em
There's mud, and mire - and worse!
The purple ones are Mother's
Did she ever tell you how
She sank into the boggy swamp
While fetching our old cow?
We didn't find them for two days,
They both were near past saving.
We knew which one was Mother
By the purple boots up waving.
Grandad wore them in the summer time
While we were carting hay.
We believed his story
How it kept the snakes away.
Until one day I caught him
Trying hard to hide
A flask of good Scotch whiskey
Down his old boot's roomy side!
Remember little sister
In her lovely bridal dress?
Wore her boots out to protect her shoes
Avoiding winter's mess.
Recall dear Mother's horror
And the groom's delighted smile.
First time a lacy gown was worn
With gumboots down the aisle.
My brother wore them constantly,
His socks and feet so high
The poor old kelpie took one sniff
And crawled away to die.
We thought we'd use the potent smell
To fumigate the shed.
Not only bowled the ticks and mice
But all the chooks dropped dead!
Childhood games of Picnic Races
Kids all sat astride
Broomstick nags with gumboot heads -
Ride 'em, Darby, ride!
Yes, gumboots are a fact of life,
We're thankful, every minute.
We'd rather put our gumboots on
Than put our foot right in it.
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