You Can Cry is a powerful bush poem by Ben Eggleton about drought, financial pressure, family, and the silent struggles many Australian men carry alone.
Set on a struggling farm during drought, the poem follows one man’s darkest moment as life’s pressures finally become too much. What follows is a deeply personal reminder that asking for help is not weakness, and that sometimes the strongest thing a person can do is simply allow themselves to cry.
This poem is shared with Ben’s permission as part of Keeping The Verse Alive, Country Campfire’s project to help preserve Australian bush poetry for future generations.
You Can Cry
by Ben Eggleton
There comes a time
In every bloke’s life
When that rotten bloody mongrel black dog
Comes along to bite him in the bum.
One of those days, mid winter it was
When I felt that rotten mongrel.
After going to the post box
Found all that windowed mail.
You see, the drought had bitten hard.
Wind had howled all night long, blowing dust.
The bit of work I had managed to grab
Had dried then shrivelled, blew away with the dust.
The wife was sad, the kids were all hungry.
The ute sitting in the drive, out of fuel.
Couldn’t face the wife, nor the hungry kids.
Found my favourite kerosene drum, settled in the sun.
The windowed mail I shuffled in my hand,
Stopped, looked at the top one, from the bank.
Inside me that rotten black mongrel took hold.
Inside me dwelled that hollow helpless pang.
Nobody could see me, I flung the windows away.
Let out a long low helpless groan.
Nobody could see me, I let the tears flow
To drip upon the dry barren dusty soil.
From somewhere inside me, from God knows where,
This big reliable rugged Aussie man let out another groan.
Then the tears, they began to flood, hard, wet.
My body quivered as that black dog moment took hold.
Couldn’t work out how to handle this, too proud.
Stood too long, tall, cracking jokes at the bar.
Couldn’t let anyone see me in a weak moment.
“Ah, come on, you’re a sissy,” they would say.
Through my pain, I felt the presence of another,
Standing somewhere near, silent, waiting for me.
Through my watered eyes I saw my dear dad,
His hand outstretched begging me to stand.
I did, on feeble shaking wobbly legs.
He placed his arms around me, gave me a hug.
“It’s OK son, you can cry, get the mongrel out.”
I haven’t seen my dad for nigh on thirty years.
As my sobbing ebbed, the shaking slowed right down.
His calming voice whispered in my ear the words.
The words I needed to hear to make the mongrel gone.
“I should have done, my son, what you just have.
All those years ago, for you see I have learned.
No man, no matter how tough, has a need to cry,
Has a need to talk to chase that mongrel away.
Make me a cuppa, we’ll sort this mess right out.”
EVERY MAN HAS A NEED TO CRY.
IT DOESN’T MAKE YOU WEAK.
EVERY MAN HAS A NEED TO TALK.
TO SHARE HIS LIFE’S HEAVY LOAD.
Author’s Note
For all those people out there with clouded thinking:
Cry and talk. Kick that dog out.
Watch Ben Eggleton Recite This Poem
Ben Eggleton has also recorded a recital of You Can Cry. You can watch it below.
From The Bard From The Scrub
You Can Cry is featured in Ben Eggleton’s collection The Bard From The Scrub.
If you’d like a copy of the book, you can contact Ben directly.
You can also explore more of Ben’s poetry, podcast appearances and books on his Country Campfire contributor page.
Visit Ben Eggleton’s Country Campfire page →
Keeping The Verse Alive
This poem is published with permission from Ben Eggleton and shared as part of Keeping The Verse Alive, Country Campfire’s project to preserve written Australian bush poetry for future generations.
Poems, recitals, photographs, stories and original works remain the property of their original creator and are shared by Country Campfire with permission.
