All quiet, all good read the great, high sign board- Valley View Private Estates was the name. All quiet, all good, all gone, what a shame…softly to himself spoke The Vagabond Godfrey. He said, “I recall this being one of the first, first places I stopped in my youth setting out on my own. I chanced upon people who believed in living a simple, respectful way. They taught me to harness, to care for the big horses, we rode high on the sweet loads of hay. All quiet, all good, all gone today. 44 years they lived on the land, in the shadow of the mountain they called “The Provider “, Kids moved to the city, the years did not wait for him, alone now the choice was “sell up while you can, old man subdivide her.. All quiet, all good, all gone. On the valley bottom every summer grew, the big garden and all of the hay and   the good winter feed. Wood cut from the lot and sold for cash money, provided all the large family would need. All quiet now, all good, all gone. He stood holding the gate of the Private Estate, where once the log cabin stood and the paddocks rolled down to the river. He recited the horses names, Queenie and Blackjack, the pony Thunder, the Belgian mare Rose, People stare at Godfrey , throw a beer can at him, from across the posh lawn as the vagabond turns and go’s.  The vagabond , all quiet, all good, all gone.


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