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Wheelbarrow Joe

Edward S. Sorenson

From field to field, from town to town,
    ‘Long many a lonely track.
He wheeled his barrow up and down
    A thousand hills out back.

‘Twas laden with a bulky swag,
    With axe and tins and cans,
His tucker and his waterbag,
    His digger’s kit and pans.

No lazy-boned sundowner’s load
    For old wheelbarrow Joe
To shove all day on track and road
    Where fortune-hunters go.

Part-harnessed to the shafts was he,
    To ease each horny hand.
As on he pushed with bending knee
    Through gibbers, mud and sand.

At times he left the beaten ways
    And trundled through the bush,
To wander in the wilds for days,
    To shovel, pick and push.

When good luck made him smile and sing,
    And gold was in his kit,
Not off he cast the wobbling thing,
    But trimmed and painted it.

While others rode where roads were rough,
    Or humped swags to and fro,
The creaking wheel was good enough
    For old Wheelbarrow Joe.

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