When this place became our home
We had no cattle yards of our own.
Our neighbour let us borrow some
So down the lane our stock would come.

But the race didn’t rise above our heads
The ramp sloped down below instead.
In heavy rain the yards would flood
Then cattle trucks stuck in the mud.

We built our own yard in the end
A facility that we could lend.
It served us well for many years
Until a few faults appeared.

Large mobs of cows in the holding pen
Caused injury now and then.
A seven-wire fence was not strong
To hold mobs of cows that long.

The decision was made to change to rails
Like in the race and other bails.
The wire was stripped, posts rammed in place
Despite the tree roots at their base.

A generator provided power
The skill-saw cutting work each hour
Until the rails were firm and strong
And running all the way along.

The bike did what it should
It towed the trailer with the wood.
Extra-long planks were needed here
The long trailer kept equipment near.

When asked who helped him every day,
‘No one,’ Dad was heard to say,
‘I did everything that you see here,
But then I did have the right gear.