Cobb and Co was the name of a company that ran stage coaches in the 19th century to the outback of Australia.
As kids mum & dad would take us 'fossicking' around the old coach stops and homesteads all over the bush.
We used to collect all sorts of stuff and I enjoyed digging around and finding things from a by-gone era.
Unfortunately when we left the bush we just couldn't take everything with us so we had to leave behind a lot of our collected memorabilia.
But the memories of those times spent searching and discovering with my parents have stayed with me and I remember them today with much pleasure.
There have been a number of poems written about the iconic coaches over the years probably because they were such an important part of life in outback Australia before the automobile came along; we hope you enjoy mums wonderful poem.
Across many a plain in the quiet outback,
Are the marks of the coach wheels, a deep rutted track,
And the stations are there, stark and hollow and still,
On a plain, in a gully, round the edge of a hill.
Once they were busy, many people were there,
Always a hustle and bustle and noise in the air,
But now there is nothing, just all empty shells,
Here and there an old post with a story to tell.
In a broken down yard, on a rotted old rail,
Hangs a dried up, stiff bridle on a long rusty nail,
Beside it, dejected, with a warped wooden wheel,
Is a drunken old wagon that once was so real.
A blackened cook pot by a bottle or two,
And many old nails with a rusty horseshoe,
But there is there to find, there is there to know,
The stories and legends that made Cobb and Co.
When the wind blows cold in the dark of the night
There's an old coach running, the horses held tight,
In the hands of the driver who's got a great thirst,
So to reach the next station he gives a last burst.
Then over the rise, the dim lights of a town,
From the top of the hill he goes flying on down,
The hooves how they thunder, the wheels how they roar,
With a jingle of harness he pulls up at the door,
Here's a friendly old building, a familiar old inn,
And the publican's there to say welcome to him,
He's reached journey's end, he'll stay for the night,
He'll leave in the morning when the sun's high and bright.
He'll return through those stations in the dusty outback,
He'll drive his coach over those deep rutted tracks,
This then is history, this then will grow,
With the stories and legends that made Cobb and Co.