Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BOSS'S WIFE, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BOSS'S WIFE, by                    
First Line: The warm winds crossed from the eastern coast
Last Line: "'twas chin-ti, the chinese cook!"
Subject(s): Deception;unfaithfulness; Infidelity;adultery;inconstancy


THE warm winds crossed from the eastern coast,
Grew hot through the mountain passes
And picked up the breath of the burning plains
And touched on the station grasses.

And the grasses shrivelled, all dry and brown,
And shrunk to a dusty grey,
And the brown earth cracked, and the fiery drought
Came down on the land to stay.

The waters in on the homestead holes
Sank down to the blue-clay rim,
And the ibis came in their circling flocks
To feast on the bony bream.

'Twas shift all stock to the breeders' run,
With never the slightest doubt—
For the station boss 'twas a total loss
If the breeders' run gave out.

And the boss must wrestle and scheme and toil
And stick to the uphill job,
And battle it out with the fiery drought
For the sake of the starving mob.

And at night he'd go to the stockmen's hut,
For word of the day's work done,
And he'd stay for a smoke, or a yarn and a joke,
And talk of the outside run.

But it seemed somehow to the boss's wife,
A deep and rankling slight
That his plans were made with outside aid
When it came to an uphill fight.

And at night when he'd gone she'd wait and watch
In loneliest contemplation
Of the lot and life of a station wife
And the ways of an outback station.

And she'd gaze at the stockmen's huts below,
And across to the servant's light,
And she'd wait and brood in the doleful mood
That comes with the silent night.

And out of the darkness a notion grew,
A dim little gleaming dart,
It grew and flashed like a fiery sword,
And struck at the wifely heart.

'Twas a notion founded on logic's rites,
And womanly intuition,
By the housemaid's light when it sank at night,
And a shadowy apparition.

She gave no sign, but she watched each night,
Till there wasn't much room for doubt,
And she timed when the boss came in at night,
Form the time that the lights went out.

And she hid the hurt with a woman's skill,
And she studied the housemaid's lighting;
To be betrayed for an artless maid—
'Twas time to be up and fighting.

When the boss was gone to the stockmen's hut
She lost no time in the going,
With a friendly smile and a bit of guile,
Would the maid come and help with the sewing?

And the maid agreed with a ready nod,
She'd nothing much to do,
She went with a smile, and fell for a pile
Would last for an hour or two.

And the wife, when the work was well in swing,
Slipped off to the housemaid's room,
And safe in the camp she blew the lamp,
And waited there in the gloom.

Till the footsteps soft on the beaten track
Turned in at the darkened door,
With scarce a rap, or the slightest tap,
For he'd been there oft before.

She spoke no word, and the darkened room
No change in the form betrayed,
Nor the greeting kiss with the meeting miss,
'Twas much as the melting maid.

'Twas a woman's style and a wifely wile,
To play the maid of the quarters,
She played with the skill and the strength of will,
And the guile of Eve's own daughters.

She played, and sudden she flashed a torch,
One horrified glance he took;
She dropped the light and she fainted quite,
'Twas Chin-ti, the Chinese cook!





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