In the bustling heart of a country show, I met a man with a crafted glow, Steve Craigie, an Aussie, through and through, Wandered the land with leather goods to view.
His products woven with fine leather strands, Belts and wallets, crafted by skilled hands, Goods that spoke of the Outback's silent tune, Under the watchful eye of the silvery moon.
He gave me a belt, a testament to his art, Years have passed, yet it's still like its start, A circle unbroken, like the friendship we knew, A bond with the craftsman, honest and true.
But in twenty-sixteen, Steve changed his stride, To Ora Banda's fields, he then did ride. The lure of gold, under the vast blue sky, Called him to prospect, to dig, and to try.
With a wet plant running, and leach dams in rows, Steve's on the gold, as everyone knows. Pushing the earth, for that glittering prize, Finding the specks that make fortunes rise.
Yet, it's not the gold that makes him dear, But his salt-of-the-earth ways, so sincere. A genuine spirit, rare and defined, In Steve Craigie himself, a treasure you'll find.
For he's a man of the land, a friend to all, In the vast, rugged beauty where the wilds call. So here's to Steve, may his pan always shine, With nuggets of joy, in this heart of mine.