~~~ A Decent Bloody Feed ~~~
Me mind was pretty hazy
And, I was gettin' pretty lazy,
Since I'd gone, and lost me flamin' lovin' wife,
And I was gettin' awful thin
'Cos, there weren't no bickies in the tin
And I couldn't cook a feed to save me life.
I was in a desperate need
Of a decent bloody feed,
Since, me missus and me mate have both shot through,
And the cupboards they are bare
Since they buggered off those pair,
And I really didn't know just what to do.
Then I met this flamin' joker,
(He was a flamin' smoker),
And he told me 'bout this place out in the scrub,
Where a bloke could have a rest
And get treated like a guest,
And get himself a decent plate of grub.
So I went to have a look,
A flamin' captain's cook,
And there it was with all a man could want,
There was a big long line,
Of men, underneath that sign,
That said, this is the famous "Bushmen's Restaurant".
And the bloke what's on the door,
He gave out a mighty roar,
"It's the place where all the bushmen come to eat
And you'd better bloody hurry
'Cos, there's braised steak and there's curry,
And the kangaroo is pretty hard to beat".
"And we get the snakes and fry'em
So, you'd better bloody try 'em
'Cos, a bit of snake it goes down pretty well,
And the lizard lookin' good
'Cos, they're smoked with sandal wood
And the porcupine tastes really flamin' swell".
So if you ever have the need,
Of a proper flamin' feed,
Come with me, and I'll show you where it's at,
You have to be polite,
And you ain't allowed to fight,
But you are allowed to wear ya' flamin' hat.
October 4, 2000
~~ 389 ~~
~~~ Here's Another Story ~~~
Now here's another story
You can never bring ya' wife,
'Cos, she nagged him just like crazy,
So, no women are allowed
You had better take his heed,
October 5, 2000
~~ 391 ~~
~~~ The West Australian Rider ~~~
"The Man From Snowy River" he came ridin' into town'
"The Man From Snowy River", he came chargin' through the door,
It was the man from Ironbark, he was the first to speak,
He's ridden from the western coast just to teach you fella's how,
The Snowy River rider's just scoffed and laughed and said,
The barman stood his western friend and said, " You bloke you'd best beware,
He use ta' muster crocodile's on the Fitzroy and the Ord,
He said he went to Egypt, for, a contract cuttin' wood,
Then he went musterin' wombats on the famous treeless plains,
Now he's come to Kosciusko where the reed beds sweep and sway,
So, they waited at the summit for that western rider bloke,
He met them on the summit just as the daylight fell,
They camped inside a cabin, right on the ridges' spur,
At four o'clock next mornin' he had the billy on,
Then the western river ride said, "It's time to have that ride,
The Snowy River riders went searching high and low,
He knew he couldn't beat that bloke that came from double u a,
And now around those mountains in that clear and crystal air,
His horse got sold for pet food, it's in tins of chunkie pal,
October 7, 2000
~~ 393 ~~
~~~ Zucchini's ~~~
Some people love good tucker, and other just like crap,
I hate those Chinese veggies that are on the market shelf.
But the worst of all's zucchini's, those cucumber lookin' things,
And each time you have a flamin' feed, in a restaurant or a pub,
They pounded us with carrots for many, many years,
Ratbags flamin' ratbags, that's all that I can say,
Many, many years ago, when I got drunk and had a spew,
And these days I have this naggin' thought, of zucchini on my brain,
October 11, 2000
~~ 395 ~~
~~~ Quince ~~~
"Lose me quince," he says, "That's what ya' flamin do,
"Quince! It's what push's a man over the edge", 'E se's,
I remember many years ago, me dad 'e se's to me,
"Well Son", 'E se's, "Inside ya' brain, let me explain,
"And if ya' lose it, by crickey, you can bet ya' race is run,
"Some women don't make ya' lose ya' quince, only a few,
I've always followed my dear old dads advice,
October 13, 2000
~~ 405 ~~
~~~ The Soil Surgeon ~~~
There was this soil surgeon, that came from back 'o' Bourke,
Without slightest trepidation he could dig an excavation,
With a banjo in each hand he could dig in any land,
He'd do any sorta' job just to earn a flamin' bob,
With-out any hesitation he's the hero of our nation,
I was lookin' for some work and diggin' holes could be a lurk,
The surgeon gave a sign and said he'd give me a flamin' try.
But! There came that fateful day, he was diggin' in some clay,
I had him nearly to the top when I had to flamin' stop
So, I shone a flamin' light into that hole as black as night,
October 31, 2000
~~ 414 ~~
~~~ Rabbit Eatin' Bunyips ~~~
I went to trap some bunnies, just to make ends meet,
I was tugged and pulled about a bit, and I fell down on the ground,
Then a big long tongue came snaking out and grabbed me by me toes,
Then I heard this grumbling sound, that, come from way down in that hole,
It was a rabbit eating bunyip that had come from out the scrub,
And me trap was stuck inside its gob and the chain was hangin' out,
I swung a left, and then a right, then an upper-cut as well,
It rolled on the ground in agony and made a woeful shreachin' sound,
So all you thievin' bunyips, those rabbit, eatin' ones I mean,
So you'd all just better move on, to a safer place you see,
* * * *
I still go trapping bunnies, just to make ends meet,
December 9, 2000
~~ 415 ~~
~~~ Who's That Knockin' On Me Door ~~~
Most every Sunday morning,
December 11, 2000
'Bout, that bushmen's place of glory,
That famous place "The Bushmen's Restaurant",
Where a man can get a feed
And, what ever else he needs,
It's got everything a man could ever want.
It'll only cause ya' strife,
And the cook will bar ya' from that famous place.
'Cos, he was married to a dame,
That had only bought him shame,
And he had to leave his town a big disgrace.
Till his brain went kinda' hazy,
And he did his block and lost his flamin' quince.
'Cos she never shut her trap,
Until his mind just sorta' snapped,
And he hasn't seen another woman since.
In his tucker eating crowd,
There ain't a shelia that's alive that can come in.
Only men can eat the grub
In his exclusive eating club,
'Cos, women are what makes a fella' sin.
If you're lookin' for a feed
That will melt, just like magic in ya' mouth.
'Cos, there's not a city or a town,
That's makes a better feed around
In the West or the North or East or South.
Lookin' for that rider, that want's to take his crown.
He only knew that fella' had come from way out west,
And he'd come to prove to all around, he was the flamin' best.
To find that western rider a'sleepin' on the floor
And his Snowy River rider's had come from near and far,
To join, the man from Snowy River inside that local bar.
He ask the barman if that bloke, was the one that they did seek.
The barman hesitated, then, scratched his head and said,
"That's him for sure fair dinkum', but be careful how ya' tread.
To ride down them there mountains, but ya' see he sleepin' now!
And he said for me to tell ya's, that as soon as he's awake,
He'll ride backwards down those mountains, with a thousand quid at stake".
"That crazy western rider will only end up dead, 'cos,
There ain't a man alive today who can make that famous ride,
But to ride it bloody backwards his brains they must be fried".
He's the only man I've ever seen, break a fifteen year old mare,
He's comes from up the Kimbley's in the north of double u a,
And he's rid cross the Simpson, in only half a day.
And he roped a thirty footer with a bit of clothe line cord.
Then he rode it to a stand still, till it give up the ghost,
And he told me he's just not the type, who likes to flamin boast.
At a place they call Sahara, that's where the timber stood,
And he cut it clean of timber, then he grubbed out all the stumps,
But he left a mob of palm trees, around water holes in clumps.
And he straightened up the railway line to make it safer for the trains,
The Nulabour is safer now for those marvelous deeds he done,
But he never asked for payment 'cos, he done it all in fun.
And he'll teach, you Snowy River riders a few new games to play,
'Cos, there's not a mountain high enough or a valley that's too deep,
That can hide, from that western rider when he wakes for out his sleep".
And they talked a bit, and laughed a bit, at their Kosciusko jokes.
Far off in the distance the western rider makes his way,
Towards those Snowy River riders to teach them how to play.
And the Snowy River riders gave out a welcoming yell,
They told him he'd be welcome to camp with them tonight,
Because tomorrow mornin', we just might have to fight.
And they asked the western rider which bed he did prefer,
But the western rider he replied, "Only weak men used a bed",
So he rolled his sway outside that shack, and slept in the snow instead.
And he woke those Snowy River riders with a western riders song.
He'd had their breakfast cookin', on a bit of rustin' steel,
And they all agreed, both man and boy it was a bonzer meal.
Where's "The Man From Snowy River"," that western rider cried.
But "The Man From Snowy River" he was nowhere to be seen,
He had made himself as scarce, as Henry's missing Queen,
'Cos they knew "The Man From Snowy River" was never gunna' show.
And when they finally found him, he was hidin' drinkin' beer,
And "The Man From Snowy River" he was shakin' just with fear,
So he hid himself inside the pub and said, that's where he's gunna' stay.
That western Aussie rider he went and done that ride,
But nobody ever saw it, 'cos they couldn't swallow pride,
It's never even mentioned and nobody even cares.
"The Man From Snowy River" couldn't live with all his shame,
So he up and moved to Sydney and even changed his name.
And "The Man From Snowy River", is the tale that no one tells.
No one can tell that tale 'cos, everybody that lived there knew,
That, "The Man From Snowy River" was a yarn that wasn't true.
Some people love canned beer, others like it from the tap.
And when it comes to veggies, some eat the flamin' lot,
But me! I'm sort's picky 'cos, sometimes I lose the plot.
I wish that they would take 'em and keep 'em to there're self.
Those eggplants and zucchinis they say they're good for you,
They cut 'em up and hide 'em, in their stir-fries and their stew.
They taste like rotting cardboard and bits of mouldy string.
They're long and green and yucky and there's yellow ones as well,
And when they flamin' cook them, they really flamin' smell.
Ya' always pickin' lumps of it from out ya flamin' grub.
And you always find it in ya' soup, just'a floatin' on the top,
Zucchini's, bloody zucchini's, when will they ever stop?
Now it's, those zucchinis, it brings a man to tears.
They fry 'em and they boil 'em and some they flamin' bake,
And only just the other day, I seen A, zucchini cake.
'Bout those ones who eat zucchinis instead of spuds today.
They eat 'em for their brekky and they eat 'em for their tea,
But I will never eat 'em, so don't serve 'em up to me.
I'd always spew up carrots, always one or two.
I didn't have to eat none, to spew them every-where,
They just appeared like magic; they appeared from out nowhere.
And to spew up those zucchinis, would surly bring me pain.
So, I've made myself a promise, never drink until I'm crook
Or eat those horrible zucchini's, no matter how they're cooked.
You make me lose me flamin' quince.
You nag a man until 'e's lost it," He se's,
"And ya' wonder why e 'asn't spoken since".
"It's when a man does 'is flamin' block ya' see,
And give's 'er the flamin' lot, a broadside,
Unhappy then, that's all you's always be".
"Son! Don't marry a girl that'll make ya' lose ya' quince".
I said," Now, hang on dad, don't get mad,
But! What the bloomin' hecks a flamin' quince".
A man has this extra bit inside 'is flamin' head,
And it's called a quince, and it's women, flamin women
That make ya' lose it", That's what me dear old dad, he flamin' said,
And them women soon they will control ya' life".
"Because if ya' meet a woman that makes ya' lose ya' quince,
Never take that woman for ya' wife".
And if ya' find a tart that fills ya' heart,
You'll never lose ya' quince,
And you'll never ever part".
And I found a skirt that is a bonzer sort.
So I'm always tellin' her I'll keep me quince,
And I'm glad you is the shelia that I caught.
Who could dig a hole as fast as you could wink.
He was strong and mighty keen but had trouble keepin' clean,
And b'Jesus did his feet they bloody stink.
At the speed of any person twice his size.
He could dig a flamin' hole just like a monster mole,
And that hole would be a hole that you would prize.
Through granite rock or limestone or through clay.
He'd dig both day and night until he got it right,
And his work was like a picture on display.
And he'd never use a modernised machine.
His shovel and his spade were the tools that showed his trade,
And he'd keep his holes all smooth and spotless clean.
'Cos, he'd dug up lumps of shiny yellow gold.
And he'd dug up coal and steel, and it wasn't no big deal
Whether it was hot or frezzin' bloody cold.
That I could understand and probably do.
'Cos I have no flamin' trouble with leanin' on a shovel,
Because I'm pretty bloody lazy just like you.
But I'd have to use a spade and pull me weight.
I pealed off me shirt and prepared to move some dirt,
That's when the surgeon and meself became good mates.
He was occupied and never heard me shout.
And by the flamin' time, I got some satisfactory twine,
It took me, near twenty years to pull him out.
To take a pill to ease me old angina.
Then the rope it flamin' broke and I lost that soil surgeon bloke,
And I'm sure that he would finish up in china.
And I began to scream and shout and yell and holla'.
Then an echo it came back tellin' me I had the sack
'Cos, as a digger I'm not worth a flamin' dolla'.
And when I went to check me traps, by gees it had me beat.
I couldn't see just what I'd caught 'cos me trap was down a hole,
And when I tried to pull it out, I seem to loose me self-control.
Then a rotten smell it hit me and I heard a growling sound.
I jumped; to me feet so flamin' fast I left me pants behind,
That's when I saw its two red eyes, and heard, its teeth begin to grind.
And a hairy paw came out as well and punched me on the nose.
I yelled and screamed and jumped a bit then, picked up a flamin' rock,
And I ask it for me rabbit trap before I did me flamin' block.
That would make ya' heart stop pumpin' blood and turn ya' soul to coal.
Then a hairy head appeared, then its shoulders then its chest,
And I got a God Almighty fright, when I saw the flamin' rest.
Just the sort, you'd normally see when your too long at the pub.
Its mouth was breathin' fire, with blood drippin' from its teeth,
And rabbit fur was everywhere, hangin' off that thief.
And there was rabbit guts and gizzards there, hangin' from its snout.
And each step it flamin' took I backed off a step or two,
And I started dancin', shapin' up, getting' ready for a blue.
But it was too hard, to get to close, 'cos of its rotten smell.
I stepped back to dodge a mighty swing, from its massive hairy claw,
That's when I hit it with my right, and I knew I had it floored.
Then it crawled back to; it's flamin' hole, and headed back into the ground.
Then me trap come flyin past me; it flew from out its hole,
So that bunyips learnt its lesson, when I lost me self-control.
Don't steal me flamin' rabbit traps or I'll make ya' flamin' scream.
And I'll rip ya' flamin' teeth out and stomp ya' hairy toes,
And I'll pull ya' by ya' whiskers and I'll punch ya' in the nose.
Or I'll be trappin' flamin' bunyips and I'll cook ya's up for tea.
And I'll fry ya's and I'll boil' ya' and I'll stew ya's all as well,
But I'll have to hang ya's for a week to rid ya's of ya' smell.
And I sell 'em to the butcher's shop that's just on down the street.
But I don't see no more bunyips where, I set my traps each day,
'Cos they've heeded all my warnings and, packed up and moved away.
I try to sleep in like a king.
But some bastard knocks upon me door
Or the flamin' doorbell rings.
For a moment I just lie there
Then me anger starts to swell
'Cos, that bastard knockin' on me door,
Makes me life a livin' hell.
I am a meek and mild bloke,
Just the sort who shuts his trap,
And I wish those mongrel bastards
Wouldn't wake me from me nap.
Cos there's all different sorts of jokers
That come knockin' on me door,
So I'll tell you mate fair-dinkum,
This is the bloody score.
Now! I've met some bonzer people
Some good Aussies in me time,
That's why I write this verse of mine
In rhythm and with rhyme.
And I've met some proper arseholes
And some mongrels that's for sure,
And some Bible bashin' bastards
That comes knockin' on me door.
They tell me 'bout the future
And how grim it's gunna be,
When Jesus Christ comes back to earth
To set his sinners free.
Or there's kids collectin' money
For some country near or far,
They ask to, just drop a quid
Inside their little jar.
Then they wonder off just down the road
To count what they have scored,
Then they go and spend the flamin' lot
At the local Macca's store.
Or, some bloody smart arse copper
With a summons or a fine,
And he tells me if I don't pay up
I'll end up doin' time.
So, I'm gunna leave this city
And head out for the scrub,
But I'd best be sure that where I go,
There is a flamin' pub.
'Cos grogs a magic potion,
That numbs the smartest brain,
And it gets me so I have to drink
It, time and time again.
And it makes me bloody bulletproof
With more courage than before
So, I can piss those bludgers off,
That come knockin' on me door.