Down a corrugated highway a little silver Honda bumps along
Driven by a girl from town in a Cattleman Akubra and thongs.
With her mozzie spray, sunburn cream, and the swag her Daddy bought her,
She arrives at Harts Range Station, a few hundred K’s from the QLD border.
She pays cash at the gate, finds her mates and they stroll over to the action,
The crowd in boots and jeans sip beer and wait for the main attraction.
Then from the gates bursts a buckin’ bull, towards the clowns he runs.
The dust kicked up by mighty hooves glows gold in the afternoon sun.
The crowd cheers a rider who lasts three seconds and is tossed to the ground,
Then the bull is driven from the ring by the most skilled horsemen around.
One such horseman in a big white hat has commanded her attention,
Once the bull is gone he whispers to his horse and strokes her with affection.
She gasps as he guides his chestnut horse to duck and weave the angry bulls,
Man and beast seem as one to her, as on the reigns he never pulls.
The children clamber over the railings for the novelty lizard races,
And she loses sight of him among a sea of smiling country faces.
A tall shadow falls across her as she munches on overpriced chips,
She looks up to see the silhouette of a man standing with hands on his hips.
He taps his white hat, holds out his hand, she takes it, ‘I’m Henry,’ says he.
His deep voice, strong hand, broad shoulders and stance she can hardly believe.
But just as she opens her lips to reply, his name’s called and he disappears,
Up over the railings and he’s forking leather, he sweats as he ropes in a steer.
There’s a strict dress code for the bush dance, all gentlemen must wear a tie,
If some fellas use the strap from their swag the doorman just turns a blind eye
Because his eyes are locked on a shapely form in a blue dress and bright red lips,
As through the fresh smelling crowd, fresh showered and shaved she coolly slips.
Some old girls are teaching her line dancing, when she spies him and meets his eyes,
As they looks her up and down, undressing her, she feels her temperature rise
She sidles up to him closely, he puts his hand on the small of her spine,
They leave hand in hand, they kiss in the dark, she whispers ‘Your swag or mine?’
He leads her away past horses and hay, in the long grass he lays her down,
People are drinking at a nearby campfire so the zip of his swag’s his only sound.
He kneels at her feet and peels off her boots, folds her dress under the swag foam.
He straddles her as she unbuttons his shirt, “You’re bloody beautiful,” he groans.
He slowly leans down and their panting lips meet, they kiss for eternity then
She tears off his pants, he rips off her bra, then he sits up to look ‘pon her again.
With his finger he traces a line from her brow, over her nose, lips, neck and chest,
Down to her navel then circles back up and places one hand on each breast.
He kneads them like damper, kisses each nipple, then brings his face up to hers.
Their foreheads together, their eyes on each other, then suddenly without a word,
His chest on her chest, his mouth is on hers, skin on skin at last unbridled and bold.
They roll onto the grass and when they roll back, she sits with him in a strong hold.
She slowly lowers herself into the saddle, she groans as she takes him inside
When she throws her head back all he can see is her naked body in the moonlight,
With a billion stars behind her he says, ‘I am fucking the universe tonight.’