Slowly they turned and faced each other,
Like two maddened bulls ready for gore,
Tearing at turf, no place for mother,
There was one big fight for us in store.

The tension was palpable, crowd on edge,
The drought had worsened this Great Divide,
The two combatants symbolised the wedge,
Strong feelings they could no longer hide.

It all came down to the muster at Deni,
The place where all the brute utes meet,
These two stood out in a field of many,
Why had they decided to turn up the heat?

City versus Country, Coast versus Plain,
The differences were plain for all to see,
A feud that couldn’t be dampened by rain,
This would be well worth the entrance fee!

On the left, the ute from the city Big Smoke,
Lime green, with a bull bar ever so small,
Tinted windows, mags, right for town folk,
Most thought it was destined for a fall.

Atop this fine ute were things protruding,
Like a pin cushion its spikes ever so taut,
What’s the ute’s use? had all of us concluding,
Dubbed it ‘Echidna’, or ‘Echy’ for short!

On the right, the ute from the fabled Bush,
From somewhere west of Bullamakanka,
With a bar that’d give a big roo a push
Who’d want to call this ute a (bad name)?

This bush ute was not the latest version,
Seen better days, it was a right real ruster!
To young ladies it had a strong aversion,
Poor suspension made it a ‘filly buster’!

Facing they frantically spun each wheel,
Headlights eyeing each other for a flaw,
But neither moved forward to seal the deal,
A standoff reminiscent of the Cold War.

Slowly they dug themselves into the sand,
And there they stalled with no more in store,
With no crowd willing to give them a hand,
The standoff would now last for evermore.

So still they stand in the paddock at Deni,
Memorial to the folly seen by us all,
Near them a sign to be read by the many,
It reads: ‘United in sand, divided we stall’.

© Neil Dufty