Colin F. Jones

~ Once Upon A Time ~
THE CONGARINI FLOODS

Well the rains came this year
just in time to soak the peas,
We had fifteen acres planted
on the slope we’d cleared of trees.

The horses now were resting
from all the work they’d had to do,
The plough and dropper covered
the first picking coming through.

But the rain it kept on falling
and the nearby creek did flow,
That my brother and my cousin
with myself thought it the go

To try out our home-made kayaks
of corrugated iron and wood
Sealed up around the edges
with black pitch and hard baked mud.

But when we got to where the kayaks
used to be on the gravel bank,
We found the wild rushing water
had washed them away or they had sunk.

The creek had widened out
forming small islands here and there,
So we crossed where it was shallow
With an amount of considerable care.

But still we failed to find them
and the creek was on the rise,
The shallows were now deeper,
but this was not really a surprise.

Suddenly we realized
that we were isolated on a gravel isle,
With the water charging passed us
we would have to use all our guile.

The channel between us and safety
was too wide to leap across,
So we searched for a hanging branch
from the far bank we could trust.

In this we were successful
and my brother was the first to jump,
He grabbed the hanging branch
and hit the other bank with a thump.

His feet hit the water
but he managed to crawl up through the weeds,
So he was soon followed by my cousin
who only just succeeds,

For the branch broke from its moorings
as he hit a little bush,
The water grabbing at his legs
as he pulled himself up through the slush.

There I was all stranded
with the rising water rushing past;
As I saw the branch swept away
oh that torrent was so fast.

I thought about leaping
but it was far too wide for me,
And I would simply not survive
if I was swept away like a tree.

My brother ran for help
and returned with my Uncle and my dad,
And when they returned with a rope
the creek had risen just a tad.

I had no room to get a run up
to try to leap across the stream,
For the island on which I was standing
had now become a dream.

Three times they tossed the rope across
but it dropped short every time,
As the water rose to my ankles
and the rain failed to decline.

At last I grabbed the rope before
it was washed away down the creek,
I tied it around my waist as round
my knees the water began to creep.

“Okay” I yelled and paddled up
then leapt with all my might,
I must have looked a little stupid
not a very gratifying sight

I landed roughly about midstream
and was instantly washed away,
Pulled under by the swirling flow
among all the debris and decay.

Then suddenly the rope jerked tight
and I hit the bank like a whale,
I was hauled out like a drowning rat
though I knew not of the detail.

The rain it poured for fourteen days
and every night as well,
That all the peas were ruined
there were no pods left to shell.

But we would plant again next year
and hope for much less rain,
But most likely then the drought will come
and cause us much more pain.

We never found our metal boats
that were probably washed out to sea,
But we had learned a lesson and I think
the reader would agree.