Old Crims, Got It In The Blood

‘N the burly bushranger with the busted trigger finger and the bullet fragments in his cheek tips back his sun burnt hat amidst all this bush and comments dry mouthed –

She ain’t ever comin’ home, you gotta realise that. Not least till the hot place burns cold.

‘n the other says with no sense of self irony, but a heartfull of liquid lead hurt.

I know that, you think I don’t… Love of my-

Love of what? Your life? Fuck, that’s ebbing outta you as we speak.

I’m shot no less than you.

Haha she won’t be back.

So the second skinny old boy, he’s a rascally rip roarin’ rapscallion robber since they come from the ships on old England, he can’t give much more than a dead ducks spits worth what the one knows. He knows she may come back. And may’s a lot sooner than never.

I got hope.

Well good on ya. Good on ya mate. Now is Hope gonna show us the way outta this hole?

In the burning black spotted light of the sun, nothing comes for hours. The troopers, God’s own from the colony, have long since left these two shot up rejects out to bleed while the bull ants feast on their bloodied bones.

You believe in punishment? Like divine retribution?

Yeah. This…this little caper makes me believe strongly in it.

God’s nothing more than words on a page. If he exists, he’s so strong, then he would show ‘im self now.

Busted trigger finger, who goes by the name of Byron Bliss cause he makes the ladies sweat before he takes all husband’s gold, can only answer…

God’s never been in my life. Why now? He’s up there somewhere dealing with universal affairs. Think he cares about two dying bandits who only ever done bad?

He should. The scriptures say he has love for all, and he’s everywhere at one, all powerful. He could atleast pop up now.

And do what?

Stop this bleeding. Grant us a vision. Bring the lights on. Fuck’d if I know?

But he’s not coming. Or we’ll see him. Or his counterpart.

Shut your mouth. I really don’t want to think about that…

But Lead Heart, who took on the moniker of Sir Gumtree Grease after tying his victims up in the bushland and providing a means of escape, laughs, not worried, as he thinks of what he’ll say to the lord of the evil that has been so much a part of his short, fun life.


You think this is all in fun?

Shut up. Let me fade out in peace. The fireworks are coming. Oh yeah, that parade, such a damned parade ahead for us…

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