Apples for Your Horse
“This is tomorrow’s apple Ned”
The old man told his mount,
As he planted the core behind the shed
Up there at Blair’s bush camp.
Since then generations of stockmen
Have caught the descendants of Ned,
With a tempting sweet apple gift
From that old tree behind the shed.
The tree that survived the ’39 fires
When the shed was burnt right down,
And has lived through 100 winter snows
To fruit each year at muster time.
Then a new way of thinking
Considered the tree a curse,
And the modern enlightened ranger
Cut it down; “it’s a weed of course”.