The Windmill Run

CHORUS

The  Southern Cross is turning, creaking joints need oiling,

There’s a finger full of grease for cog and gear

Clockwise, ever clockwise, hot dipped and galvanized -

The blades will turn another fifty years.

Monday’s dawn will find him astride his faithful Harley

Just a kerosene tin jammed between his knees,

There’s a hessian bag of tucker, twitch wire and some pliers;

And he’s camouflaged in khaki dungarees.

Out along the western fence the three mile troughs are full,

Then it’s north along the track to Deadwood Bore;

There's spinifex and mulga, plus a dozen mills or more,

‘Til night-time finds him on the outcamp floor.

Every now and then there’s a breakdown and he finds it

Depressing, as the jammed up rods he frees.

Fifty head it's cost him, and the crows, with bellies full,

Are sitting there, a’laughing, in the trees.

Mostly though it’s endless toil adjusting floats and valves

And fixing up the fences near and far;

Visions of his wife and kids see him through the afternoon

To his nightly destination with the stars.

Gone again’s another week and he turns up at the homestead,

Just a silhouette against the setting sun;

There’s just two days at home, there’s sheep to dip tomorrow,

Then a rest before another windmill run.

The Windmill Run: A. Mann

This song by Alan Mann describes a week in the life of a station owner in outback Western Australia in the mid 1970’s.  In this case some 50-60 windmills had to be serviced every week; the increased cost of labour effectively bought a life sentence on the land to many station owners.  This one is dedicated to the memory of George Lukin of Lake Way Station, south of Wiluna.