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SNOWY RIVER SON
The brumbies had been yarded, we had culled the
very best
Already they were driven halfway home,
The boss just gave the thumbs down, a sorry lot
the rest,
Silently we knew what must be done.
Our aim was sure, all over quickly, they dropped
swiftly, felt no pain,
But I knew somehow I never would forget
One lame bay mare that faced me, dark eyes,
tangled mane,
Her forehead wore the star of Old Regret.
I scanned each stiffened body as we pushed them
in the pit
Wondering if I'd really seen her there,
Though I'd watched her sway and crumple - I
know the bullet hit,
Our gruesome tally counted no bay mare.
Her limping, painful progress found a hidden
gully fed
By a creek, some shreds of snowgrass, scrap of
sky,
She lived! Each day grew stronger, often raised
a lean scarred head
To call the lost companions - no reply.
She left the sheltered valley when the life-song
in her blood
Urged her down through secret, starlit trails
To a handsome, pure bred stallion from a well
known racing stud,
Hoof-prints met and mingled over fallen stock-
yard rails.
Only eagles know high meadows where a mare and
fine colt stray
His name will never be recorded in any stud
book, yet
One could trace his line back to that thorough-
bred that 'got away'
The Snowy River legend, the Son of Old Regret.
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