© Geraldine King

“Hello old gate,” I whispered
as I fumbled for the catch.
It creaked a rusty welcome
as I lifted up the latch.

I felt this eerie feeling
as I stood there in that place.
The pub had burnt down years before.
Only memories filled that space.

Suddenly the hands of time
swept me back through forty years
to memories long forgotten
of happiness and tears.

I was a little girl again
in a small town’s social hub.
It was the morning session
of our outback country pub.

My dad was there behind the bar
pulling pots for thirsty men.
Country men were loud and rough
but they were ‘tough’ back then.

Days were hard and relentless
backbreaking work in the sun.
The ‘shout’ became an Aussie tradition
when work was said and done.

The public bar was for men alone
and there a woman dares.
This was a place for men to play
to escape from trials and cares.

Six PM was closing time
and dad would pull the blind.
Decent folk would head for home.
Many men would stay behind.

Even the local copper
dropped in to have a drink.
Nought was said behind closed doors.
None …. kicked up a stink.

Women sat in the ladies’ lounge.
They had a Pimms or a Shandy.
Mum played piano on a Saturday night.
Old war songs came in handy

So, it was ‘Roll out the Barrel’
or ‘Be sure it’s True.’
When mum played piano
at our Saturday evening do.

But good times can suddenly slip away
and the last train came and went.
Dad went mustering to make a quid
for our money was nearly spent.

Mom tried to get TV to the pub.
It was all the go in the city.
The TV towers were a long way off
so it sat silent, what a pity.

Then the highway passed us by.
We packed our car so sadly.
We headed down to Brisbane town
to a new life had so gladly.

So, it’s goodbye again old rusty gate.
Good to walk down memory lane
to a time when life was harder
but simpler just the same.