In honour of Dave, a fine individual...

Davey Dyer: The Hughenden Flyer

They were shearing down south round Captain’s Flat way, every year exactly the same;

Freezing & shearing, sheep down the chute & you’re onto the next wether again;

The shearers would all grumble about the dud classer & whinge about rousies who slacked,

But down the pub later in the inevitable fight, you’d know they’d all have your back.

It was into this midst walked a man, massive hat and a rather loud Hawaiian shirt,

He was there as a learner, so they’d better be kind, this is pretty tough unrelenting work;

The shearers asked at smoko, ‘so mate, where you from & what brings you this way?’,

‘I’m Davey Dyer’, he replied with a tilt of his head ‘I’m from Hughenden, north, that’a way’.

The shearers accepted him into their midst, they gave him the easier ewes,

Bare bellied beauties, shorn quick as a wink, ‘Nah, go on mate, after you’;

Yet it became pretty clear why he was here, Dave didn’t miss a trick;

You see, David had an uncanny ability to find a nice ewe & get her shorn real quick!

Now it pays to digress to the very first night, when asked how he fares in a blue,

Dave scratched his beard, had a great pause and on that grass seed did chew...;

With a far away look that all of a sudden became a steely-eyed glint,

He stated bluntly  ‘I really can’t fight but geez ....I can go a bit’.

Now Dave snagged some work at Thargomindah, just down the road from Eulo,

It was bloody hot, the sheep were nasty and you had to be tough to go;

But boys in the shed figured out quick they’d have to beat him into the pen,

Every one was nudging, ‘We’ve got a new gun - it’s that bloke from Hughenden’.

And as he got a bit older, Dave would look at good ewes and give a devious grin,

He’d tip them up, shear ‘em quick, and into the pen dive straight back in;

All the time he’d be damn happy, he’d laugh and joke with the men,

As he dragged another out through the doors he’d wink ‘there’s money in ‘em!’.

And so years spent working in shearing sheds, honing his skills & taking wool off in style,

He’d pull up in that old white ute of his, big hat and a cheeky big smile.

Occasionally he’d burr right up and go off like a cracker at night,

Remember of course, he’d could go a bit... which meant he could bloody well fight!

A funny bloke, a true character that anyone would be hard pressed to describe,

He’d thrust a beer into your hands and start to greatly confide,

About fossicking, the Quilpie Quick Shear and catching yabbies by hand;

Dave wasn’t just a normal bloke, he was a truly entertaining legend.

And he’d sit there telling outlandish yarns, the biggest of grins on his face,

About the time he killed the snake, out near Thargo, that Wathopa place;

He’d swung the snake around his head, then gave an almighty crack,

Whipping it firmly, he stood so proud – everyone else just slowly moved back...

Now it isn’t often you meet a bloke who’d make Banjo Paterson scratch his head,

A man who’d shear or ride a horse or crack a snake like a whip until dead,

He loved his kids, loved his wife  – he was a dynamo and 240 volt livewire,

So ‘quick quick quick’ what a fine man he was,
 Davey Dyer, the Hughenden Flyer.

Lis Petersen

Copyright 2010

Photography Lis Petersen
Shearing Shed after Dust Storm, 'Boorara' Thargomindah Qld Australia