THE TALE OF COMMON LAW

In the days of old when the world was wide and the war was far away;
Bobby thought that he would take a ride, on the town’s Patriotic Day.
Well the young squire pondered a while and saw that he would need;
To grab the silver trophy, to mount a faithful steed:

Well faith was there a plenty, but steeds were as short as grass;
As Bobby and his cobber sought an equine place to park his arse.
For horses were in short supply as drought was full in view;
Just coming into summer, late ‘41 near ‘42.

Without a ‘zac’ for a steed for the track, they knew what they had to do;
Was to look around for a ‘lost’ one, late ‘41 near ‘42.
By stroke of luck they found a steed, it looked real ‘lost’ and forlorn;
The trick was to get it out the yard, before the crack of dawn.

So off they went out to the track, with steed so strong and true;
With Bobby proudly on its back, this horse’s blood was blue.
Well the Steward saw them coming and the steed’s pedigree he knew;
For he was the rightful owner, this man whose blood was nearly blue:

But loyalty and honour were things of the Empire’s pride;
The Steward thought it only fair that the lad should have his ride.
But the Law is the Law and the Steward’s office just;
The title must be legal, the JP knew, a must:

“A fine horse you have there” Bobby’ the Steward said with glee;
“But ‘good title’ you must have, you’d better come with me.
Now where did you get her, is a rightful owner to be found?”
Well sir,” the lad said honestly “she’d strayed on Common ground.”

“Well son that may be, but ‘good title’ it must pass;
For the trophy to be rightfully yours and to sit behind your glass.”
If we can’t find the owner and he’s nowhere to be found;
For the horse was clearly straying out there on Common ground”

“Well the Law’s the Law – young Booby with me you must agree,
For I am a noble chappie, I am the town JP.”
“Gather ‘round folks” he announces “for I’ve a job to do.
An auction will now be held for this horse whose blood is blue.”

“One horse is just one lot!”
“Come on now young Bobby, how much have you got?”
“Why just ten shillings sir” the lad he stammers out;
“Ten bob’s the bid” he calls it. “Then I knock it” that’s the shout:

The Steward was no dummy he knew about the Law,
Rightful title had just passed, and Bobby’s ownership was sure;
“Now lad you take it quietly, the first one’s just a trial,
For you to get to know her” he winked with a knowing smile:

“Let her go flat out in the plate and she’ll be right on you’ll see,
And when you tell the story don’t forget to mention me”;
Well Bobby’s gone and the Steward too and the horse most certainly,
And the plate has passed down through the family tree:

It proudly sits behind its glass testament to days gone by,
When Empires ruled with justice and anyone could try;
For the Steward was the owner, he knew it in a trice,
But of course due to its breeding it would never get a price:

But it didn’t have an owner, this stray from Common ground,
It was found by luck by the boy and no papers could be found;
But Law is Law and that is that, of which you can be sure,
Oh a name you ask, why you should know, of course, it’s Common Law:

©Copyright December 2007 by Alexander R. “Lex” Fullarton

Author’s Note: This poem is dedicated to my Father. The story is TRUE – I have the plate.