The old Lou was a rough nut but a bloody good bloke to know. He never bought me lollies or gave me any dough. But I loved the old fella anyway, I thought he was mighty tough. He mixed it on the footy field and boy they played it rough. He started out with a bullock team and he fed them day and night. And he whipped those longhorns round the field as long as there was light. And the ground was hard and dusty and the wind was bloody cold. He could lift a bag of wheat with his teeth, that's what I've been told. And he put in a good day's work, a special thing to learn. What he put into this dear old earth, the good Lord would return. Well he became a saint overnight when he met his lady Lil. But he had no time for playing up, he had too many bags to fill. But when the wheat was greenest, they'd go down to the lake with two or three bottles of ginger beer and a dirty big chocolate can. He didn't have much time for me when he never came around. But I did alright without him, my folks had love abound. But I wished he could have told me more about those early days of mallee roots and dust storms and loading bullock trays. And how he put in a good day's work, a special thing to learn. What he put into this dear old earth, the good Lord would return. He finally bought a tractor to pull a larger plough. He'd die a fright, I reckon, if you saw the big wheelers now. With air-conditioned cabins and FM radio and four-wheel power steering pulling sixty feet one blow. Well Lou didn't just pick at his food, he ate at bones and all. But he still had all his teeth when they lowered down the paw. And I cried at the funeral to see his final day, my grandpa and childhood had finally passed away. And I cried at the funeral to see his final day, my grandpa and childhood had finally passed away.