~~~ A Sunburnt Tummy ~~~

I love your sunburnt tummy
And your hairy chest above,
But, those ruggered rigid nipples
Are the things I really love

And I love your sunken navel
And your knobble knees below,
But what I find offensive
Are your feet and smelly toes.

And you hair reminds me dearly
Of those fields of golden grain,
That is ripened in the sunlight
Then gets flattened by the rain.

But, your forehead's lost its wrinkles
And your nose now has a peak,
And your voice it sounds like thunder
Each time you try to speak.

Core of my heart my darling
And for reasons I do not know,
Why, I follow you round like a puppy
Wearing you under-clothes.

And I worship the land that you walk on
And rub a plus 5 on your tum,
And if you decide to turn over
I just, might rub a bit on your b--.

So, Forgive me in times of weakness
For I know where my heart truly lies,
Deep in a old dead cows carcass
With all of those maggots and flies.

And when St. Peter he calls me
To come from this for-saken land,
I'll tell him about my affliction
And I'm sure that he will understand.

Then, he'll send me back home to you darling
To this land where your tummy gets brown,
And we'll go strolling together
Naked and burnt into town.

© January 21, 2002

~~~ When Grandma Grew Her Beard ~~~

We thought it rather weird, when old grandma grew her beard,
So, we took her down the shed to shear it off.
But, when we stuck her in that pen, to be sheared by all the men,
She screamed and yelled and sneezed and gave a cough.
Then she had a flamin' fit, at the thought of tarin' it
And after that, being dipped into a trough.

So's, she wouldn't get a fright, we told her it's all right
To have her whiskers shaved in just that way,
But, she wasn't all that sure, so she bolted for the door
And we haven't seen her since that fateful day.
And that was years ago, and we really do not know
Where our granny went or where she's gunna' stay.

But! I got an awful fright, when we, went out the other night,
To see a boxin' show just down the lane,
There right up on the stage, was a creature in a rage,
Like a dingo in a trap in mortal pain.
And, it had hair from head to toe, makin' noises like a crow,
And it gurgled like the bath goes down the drain.

Then, half-way through the round, there came a sickenin' sound
Of the bones of some-ones nose, that just went crunch.
And there was a hairy paw, on that boxer on the floor
Who'd been KO'ed in, just one single punch.
The winna danced around the ring, pretendin' it could sing,
Then it headed out the back to have its lunch.

The winna it was scar-ry, small, and wir-a-ry and hairy
The meanest thing I've ever seen in Oz.
And I knew I may be wrong, if I tried to tag along
'Cos I kind'a knew just who that creature was.
But, if I was mistakin', I'd some-how loose me bacon
And get belted in me tender little snoze.

But! I am a bettin' man, and I knew that thing was gran
That knocked that other boxer to the floor.
And, I hoped she'd recognize, that twinkle in my eyes
And it's me who was knockin' on her door.
And I prayed she'd remembered me, whom she cuddled in her knee
'Cos I was that little bloke she did adore.

So's, I give her door a tap, then I heard a sudden snap
As the door, it was pulled, clear off its hinge
And I'll tell ya' mate for sure, when I saw that flamin' door,
T'was enough to make the strongest man just cringe.
I cringed and cowered down just like a flamin' clown
Who'd hallucinated on drinkin' binge.

I'll continue with my story, gran she stood there in her glory
With her beard hangin' down from ear to ear.
And she stood there at the door at a hight of four foot four
With an arm around a half full keg of beer.
And she only wore one thong and her breath gave off a pong,
And she asked me what did I want doin' here.

Then, there came a sudden smile, across her hairy dial
When grandma recognised that clown was me.
She grabbed me round the waist, squeezed me like tube of past
And swung me round and giggled all with glee.
Then she grabbed me by the hand, introduced me to a band
Of the strangest mob of folks you'd ever see.

There was one punch Bill, and a fancy chap, named Phil,
Who opened up each Fridee', Satdee' night.
And a crazy bloke called Mac, who fought with old blind Jack,
Who'd try their best with all their flamin' might.
But the best'est of them all was one-legged poncy Paul
Who, never lost or won a single fight.

So I shook those fella's hands, and said that it was grand
To met the ones that grandma held so dear.
Then, I said she should retire, before she did expire,
But grandma yelled and said no flamin' fear.
So I pleaded with her friends, who said, her boxin' it should end,
And to go with me and get right out of here.

So grandma packed her port, with her gloves and boxin' shorts
As a tear filled the corner of one eye,
'Cos, her boxin' days were over, she'd retire into clover,
And she said that she would probably flamin' die.
So's, I grabbed her bag and said, this really ain't the end
And that we could box together her and I.

Now grandma's home with us, and she 'isn't no more fuss
With whiskers gone and make up in its place.
And people aren't a' feared, since grandma shaved her beard,
And grandpa says she's not a big disgrace.
But, every now and then, grandma gets that urge agen
And belts a total stranger in the face.

© May 30, 2002

~~ 570 ~~

~~~ Have You Ever ~~~

Have you ever seen a dingo in a gum tree,
Or a parrot eating gum nuts with a spoon.
Or a kangaroo just laying back and smoking,
Or a wombat blowing up a red balloon?

Have you ever seen a possum in your garden,
Or a rabbit or a cane toad or a frog.
Or is, the only thing that you have ever eyeballed?
Is a big red cow or just a cat and dog.

'Cos, If you haven't seen any of the others,
You've never lived a life that has been full.
And the only thing you saw when you' was looking,
Was a woolly sheep or a half cast bull.

Well, I have seen a lot of funny creatures,
In my travell's all around this wide brown land.
I've seen them in the trees and in the water,
And I've even held a couple in my hand.

So get out in your garden and get busy,
And look for all those things you have not seen.
And go and look in all those hidden places,
Where you and all your friends have never been.

There you'll find the finest looking creatures,
That you have never ever seen before.
Then they'll become your friendly loving neighbours,.
That you will learn to love and will adore.

© June 5, 2002

~~ 573 ~~

~~~ The Constipated Drove ~~~

There's no movement in the dunny, as his bowels they won't let go
And the pain upon his face is plain to see.
And his farts they cracked like thunder and they smell like day old chunder
As they echoed through the valleys and the trees.
And the floorboards shake and rattled like a heard of rushing cattle,
Stampeding through the scrub with sudden fright.
And his missus calls it foul, while his dogs let out a howl
And that noise would kill the toughest crow with fright.

His brother brought some laxettes, when he heard that sound,
And his sister brought suppositories as well.
But to free his guts congestion the neighbours they suggested,
That an enema was, the surest thing in hell.
Then his mum she cooked some gravy all spiced with Epson salts,
To move that blockage from her poor sons rear.
And the nurse that came from town, said a garden hose, it is renown
To make ones constipation disappear.

There was, one bloke standin' near who said he knew what's is what,
In a pair of under-dakes all stained and ripped.
And there was a piece of shit, that was runnin' down his leg
And everywhere he walked that shit it dripped.
He was short and fat and tubby, just the sort you can't abide,
He was black from head to toe from dirt and mud.
But he had the smell of foulness from those under-dakes he wore,
And the sewerage that was runnin' in his blood.

But, still so short and tubby, one would doubt his power to spray
And his mother said that man will never do.
It's a long and tiring process of clearing out your arse
'Cos that bowel is far too blocked for such as you.
So he waited sad and sulking, only nursie stood his friend,
"I think we ought to let him try," she said.
"For he hails from the septic, where the turds are packed real tight
And there's sewerage runnin' freely in his head".

So he tried, first he got a gallon, of kerosene and turps,
And mixed it with a box of TNT.
And he got an old meat pie that had maggots stuck inside
And half a pint of cold green Chinese tea.
Then he got an old bungarra that was hanging in a bush,
Caught between a fork and now was dead.
And he put it in a blender and mixed it up and said,
"Drink it up, or put it on some bread".

That constipated drover, he drunk that mixture down ,
Then took off like a half cut brumby mare.
And he headed for the dunny like a shotgun goin' off,
And knocked his mother down, and didn't care.
But he couldn't get his strides down, before he shat hisself
He just smiled and sighed and sprayed with a great relief.
Now he has that brew for brekkie every single day,
And that never let's his arse hole bring him grief.

Now down around the dunny where drovers sit and think,
Where you'll find they've left their teeth marks in the door.
There is relief and satisfaction, just within their reach
And it's just outside mixed in a forty-four.
And that man that made that mixture is a house-hold word today,
With that brew he made for drovers who are bound.
There's a written guarantee, that, you will crap-a-tate with ease
But make sure before you shit your strides are down.

© June 14, 2002

~~576 ~~

~~~ Wankers ~~~

The world is full of wankers, of this I know for sure,
'Cos every flamin' evenin' one comes knockin' on me door.
They come from every form of life, black and white and blue,
They reckon' that their shit don't stink, that's what their tellin' you.

They spruke the flamin' Bible mate and tell of Kingdom come,
And the only one to move 'em out, is to grab one on the bum.
Or it's, "Avon callin' deary would your mother be at home,
If she's not I'll call again, or she can ring me on the phone".

Then, if you wander into town to have a drink or two,
There always is some drunken' swine who has a go at you.
They reckon that they're bullet proof, the toughest one around,
But he quickly changes all those thoughts when you knock him to the ground,

Then the publican he turfs you out and bans you from his pub,
And tells you you're a flamin' mug, and to get back to the scrub.
So ya wander off along the shops to kill a bit of time,
And what you see inside those shops it is a flaming crime.

Wankers! This pace is full of 'em, fair dinkum mate, the place is full of wankers.

They work in banks and bakeries and butcher shops as well,
And chemist shops and hardware shops and at church they ring the bell.
And they tell ya' just how good they are and how they are the best,
But I'll tell ya' mate fair dinkum, they're just a flamin' pest.

And the blokes are flamin' sheila's and sheila's they are blokes,
Now the world is full of homos it is a flaming' joke.
So which way are we headed mate, up or flamin' down?
'Cos, I'll tell you mate it is too late, 'cos the world is run by clowns.

© July 11, 2002

~~~ Way Out West ~~~

Way out west where the sand is red,
I came across a cast-iron bed,
Upon that bed was sun bleached bones,
And in those bones was a mobile phone.

That mobile phone it rang like mad,
While those bones looked pretty sad,
'Cos that phone he could not hear,
For he'd lost the meat from round his ear.

Even so what's more than that,
He's lost the meat that held his hat,
And, it's not to hard to understand
He'd lost the meat from round his hand.

So I guess, that does explain,
Why, he could not hear that phones refrain,
Or use his hand to answer it,
'Cos, he could not move his bony mit.

So, I grabbed that phone and pressed okay,
To see who had some words to say,
I said to them who could that be,
Who is you 'cos this is me.

Then a voice came crackling back,
This is George where is jack,
Where is Jack, gee-wizz I said,
I think that's him laying dead.

Laying dead as George he spoke,
Is Poor Jack dead or, is that a joke,
I'm sure its Jack to George I said,
Flat out on this cast-iron bed.

I said I found him on the plain,
Without no guts, without a brain,
And all that's left is just some bones,
And this fancy mobile phone.

Then George he said, if that is you,
There is something you can do,
Can you bring me back my phone,
And don't forget those sun bleached bones.

© July 29, 2002