It was in the Queensland drought,
and over hill and dell no grass.
The water far apart,
all dry and hot as hell.
The wretched Bullock teams drew up beside a waterhole.
They had struggled on through dust and
drought for days to reach this goal.
And though the water rendered forth a rank unholy stench,
the Bullocks and the Bullockies
drank deep their thirst to quench.
Two of the drivers cursed and swore,
as only drivers
can.
The other one, named Daniel,
best known as Holy Dan,
admonished them and said it was
the Lord's all-wise decree,
and if they'd only watch and wait,
a change they'd quickly
see.
T'was strange that of Dan's Bullocks not one had gone aloft,
but this,
he said,
was due to prayer and supplication oft.
At last one died,
but Dan was calm.
He hardly
seemed to care.
He knelt beside the Bullock's corpse and offered up a prayer.
One Bullock thou hast taken, Lord,
and so it seemeth best.
Thy will be done,
but see my need,
and spare to me the rest.
A month went by.
Dan's Bullocks now were dying every day,
but still on each occasion would
the faithful fellow pray,
Another thou hast taken, Lord,
and so it seemeth best.
Thy will
be done,
but see my need,
and spare to me the rest.
And still they camped beside the
hole,
and still it never rained,
and still Dan's Bullocks died and died,
till only one
remained.
Then Dan broke down.
Good Holy Dan,
the man who never swore,
he knelt beside the latest
corpse and hears the prayer he prore.
That's nineteen thou hast taken,
Lord,
and now you'll
plainly see you'd better take the bloody lot.
One's no damn good to me.
The other
riders laughed so much they shook the sky around.
The lightning flashed, the thunder
roared,
and Holy Dan was drowned.