More Australian Poetry

I'm leaving tomorrow (Saturday) for a trip to Victoria, about 1000 miles away!!! one of the main reasons for this trip is to see my sister Merle, she has been very sick for the last few months and while she is OK at the moment, she keeps hinting that I'd better hurry as she might not be here for long.

I am taking that with a 'grain of salt' but as life is finite for us all I began to think about all my friends who are aging at the same alarming rate as I am.... so I thought a trip to visit with them all sounded good, with camera and laptop packed into the car who knows it might even tempt me to write a post or two???

I got my order of book and CD from "Shew Wiff" today, again I can recommend these to you, he also enclosed the following poem, a nice little bonus!!!
To order contact; G Watt, 55 Joeliza Drive, Repton NSW 2454.

Brain Damage

"Your mind is a computer" said the magazine I read

"The messages are stored in little discs inside your head

Your computer brain has storage for a million sorta Bytes

And when you need the info', it lights up little lights

And in a milli second - or sometimes even less

Your brain supplies an answer, without a sign of stress".

Now I reckon that this author was some kind of a nut,

He should'a done more research, as his theory's up the "putt"

Yes! my brain is a computer - (I'll grant him that he's right)

But the emails that I'm getting, seem to disappear from sight.

The messages of wisdom in the in-box of my brain,

Just seem to bog and sit there, like a stationary train.

I've clicked and clicked for ages, but the brain is 'up the spout',

The messages that's in there, are sorta stuck and won't come out.

There's items saved for ages, They've gone and done a 'Bunk'

Important things I can't recall, they're itemized as 'Junk'.

I've searched every folder, to view what I've been sent,

but "Bugger me! I can't believe they've sorta gone and went".

"Your mind is a computer" that's what this codger said,

Well! Mine must be disconnected, or worse- it must be dead.

The memory is broken, It's really gone to pot,

There's nothing saved and nothing there, I've lost the bloody lot,

But if that bloke was right - That my brain is on the line,

I'll get a brand new one from "Microsoft" and then I'll be just fine.

Crahame "Skew Wiff" Watt 9-4-2012.

Grahame writes in a very "Australian" way so if you have 'trouble' with any of the words or meaning get back to me and I'll try to explain!!!

Australian Bush Poetry

Way back in 2007 I wrote a post called "Toilet Humor" it featured a poem called The Aussie Dunny by an unknown author... imagine my surprise and pleasure to be contacted by the grandson of the author, no longer unknown.
The link below will take you to the original post where you can read the poem which I must say has taken on a whole new outlook now that I've "met" the author, I must apologize for misnaming it as "The Aussie Dunny", which was as I received it in a long forgotten email, the correct title is; "Poor 'Ol' Grandad"

http://holtieshouse.blogspot.com.au/2007/04/toilet-humor.html

The Authors details are;
Poem Title: Poor 'Ol' Grandad
From Poor 'Ol' Grandad - Australian Bush Poetry by Grahame Watt - 2001
Grahame "Skewiff" Watt
Email: skewiff80@npes.net.au

I am informed that Grahame has 3 books and also a CD which won an award at the Tamworth Music Festival a venue rivaled only by The Gympie Music Muster for the promotion of Country Music, and poetry, here in Australia.
The name"Skewiff" rang a bell with me and on checking my files I found the reason...

“Skew Wiff Kelly”

His name was “Skew Wiff Kelly”

And everything he built

Was either at an angle

Or leaning on a tilt!

On all of his construction jobs

He used the rule of thumb.

He’d close one eye and line it up

And reckon it was plumb.

He would use the best of timber

And take a lot of care,

But every job completed

Was a little bit off-square.

His reputation grew and grew

As“Skew Wiff” moved around

The cockies overlooked his faults

For his workmanship was sound!

So as you travel round the place

You can see where “Skew Wiff’s” been.

The hayshed leaning sideways,

That verandah with a lean.

You’ve seen his good old tankstands,

They’ve a wind-blown look with time.

His fences have a stagger,

And wander just off line.

You’ve seen a “Skew Wiff” chimney

And you’ve seen a “Skew Wiff” door.

His buildings stand – defiant –

Of the gravitation law.

Yet a funny thing about it,

Though the buildings aren’t quite straight,

They always look so comfortable

As if they’d time to wait!

Now“Skew Wiff” died some years ago,

But I reckon he’d be pleased

For his tombstone’s got a lean on –

At forty-five degrees!

Grahame Watt

I offer you these two examples as a reason to contact Grahame and buy his books and/or his CD.

Poetry I like

As many of you will know I have been a lover of poetry for many years and as it is a long time since I have either written or posted any this seems a good time to rectify at least the posting part of this.

Poetry Competition in Heaven

This is an annual event held in Heaven to decide the poet laureate to God for the coming year, finalists this year are, a modern day poet, William Wordsworth, and William Shakespeare.

Their subject was to write a short poem about a bow-legged man walking down the road.

First came this from the modern day poet;

Along the track

Came bandy Jack.

Hmmmm short but to the point.

William Wordsworth stepped forward and quoted;

Along the long and winding road

There strode a man who’s legs were bowed.

Now that’s better, a bit of substance to it.

William Shakespeare stepped up next and he quoted;

Gadzooks what manner of man is this?

Who has his balls in parenthesis

I think we have a winner!!!

Update!!!!!

for those who don't read the comments,

WT has added this one;

That must have been a powerful fart,
to blow his knees so far apart.

And JackK this one;

What happened to the horse he rode?

The one that made his legs so bowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Australian Poetry Competition.

The Australian Poetry Competition had come down to two finalists, a university graduate and an old aboriginal.

They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study the word and come up with a poem that contained the word.

The word they were given was ' TIMBUKTU '
First to recite his poem was the university graduate.
He stepped up to the microphone and said:

Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked a lonely caravan
Men on camels two by two
Destination - Timbuktu

The crowd went crazy! No way could the old aboriginal top that, they thought..
The old aboriginal calmly made his way to the microphone and recited:


Me and Tim a huntin' went
Met three whores in a pop up tent
They were three, and we was two
So I bucked one, and Timbuktu

The aboriginal won. (put that in your "only in Australia" file.

This last one I’m thinking about having as part of my funeral service….. straight after the free ice-cream part I reckon.

I dreamed of heaven the other night,

And heavens gates swung open wide.

A kindly angel ushered me inside.

And there to my surprise

Stood lots of folk I’d known on earth.

Some I’d known and in my eyes

Were ‘unfit’ and ‘little worth’

Indignant words flashed before my eyes

But never were set free,

For every face showed stunned surprise

No-one expected me!

Limerick 2

Thanks to regular reader Jack K
for his contribution using the suggested words.


Once a man pondered Nantucket.

He was told to think of a bucket.

He tried to be bold,

but his turkey got cold,

so cold he then had to suck it.

Thanksgiving Limerick.

Robin over at Pensive's Poetic
License has issued an invitation
to write a limerick about
Thanksgiving.






I can't resist all that rhyming stuff so I decided to have a go;

My very first effort.... well I guess it followed the rules (no rules) but
somehow it didn't grab me.

In America, a land across the sea

There’s a tradition would suit you and me

Thanksgiving dinner they call it

They gather with family and sit

Around tables witch feature a roast turkey

Limerick #2, now that's different but it still hasn't got IT for me.

Robin, she who is the Pensive one,

Say’s write a limerick, have some fun

Talk of thanksgiving and all that it means,

Roast turkey with veg, yeah, peas and beans

With a killer line finish, then you’re done

One more try, if this one doesn't work I'm through.

The more that I tried, the longer I set

The further off topic I seemed to get

I told myself, stick with big turkey dinner

Your limerick will come out a winner

But my mind kept goin’ back to Nantucket



Oh well I tried, now what the hell rhymes with Nantucket??

Dr. Suess and the Computer.

Similar... but somehow different.

Dr. Seuss Computer Poem.

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
And the bus is interrupted as a very last resort,
And the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
Then the socket packet pocket has an error to report!

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
And the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
And your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash,
Then your situation's hopeless, and your system's gonna crash!

If the label on the cable on the table at your house,
Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
But your packets want to tunnel on another protocol,
That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall,

And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss
So your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse,
Then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
'Cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!

When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk,
And the microcode instructions cause unnecessary RISC,
Then you have to flash your memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM.
Quickly turn off the computer and go and tell your mom!

A Bad Day.

A little guy is sitting at the bar just staring at his drink for half an hour when this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, grab his drink and gulps it down in one swig.

The poor little guy starts crying.

"Come on man. I was just giving you a hard time," the truck driver says. "I can't stand to see a man crying."

"This is the worst day of my life," says the little guy between sobs. "I can't do anything right. I overslept and was late to an important meeting, so my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car was stolen and I don't have any insurance. I grabbed a cab home but after the cab left, I discovered my wallet was still in the cab. At home I found my wife in bed with our gardener."

"So I came to this bar trying to work up the courage to put an end to my life, and then you show up and drink my damn poison!"

THE WEDDING TEST.

I was a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year and so we decided to get married.

There was only one little thing bothering me ... it was her beautiful younger sister.

My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me and I always got more than a nice view. It had to be deliberate. because she never did it when she was near anyone else.

One day her "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check
the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome.
She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.

Well, I was in total shock and couldn't say a word. She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me."

I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I
stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door and headed straight towards my car. Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!

With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said , "We are
very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family!"

And the moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in your car

The week after Christmas

Just a last couple of thoughts about Christmas before we pack
it away for another year.

While this poem was obviously written by a lady, the general premise
can be applied to a man just as well, we have probably all been guilty
of a bit of over-indulgence in the past few weeks, the price we pay sits
there on our frames declaring us to the world as overeater’s.

The week after Christmas.

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste
All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales, there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk more a lumber.)
I’d remember the the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared…

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way that I’d never said, “No, thank you, please.”
As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to battle the dirt…

I said to myself, as only I can,
“You can’t spend the winter dressed like a man!”
So away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick,
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or cornbread, or pie,
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore…
But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle,
No longer a riot
Happy new years to all
And to all a good diet.

Author Unknown.

Holiday Greetings to Everyone,

I wanted to send some sort of holiday greeting to my friends, but it is
so difficult in today's world to know exactly what to say without
offending someone. So I met with my attorney yesterday, and on his
advice I wish to say the following:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for
an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress,
non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday,
practiced with the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or
secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular
persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice
religious or secular traditions at all.

I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically
uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted
calendar year 2007, but not without due respect for the calendars of
choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped
make our country great and without regard to the race, creed, colour,
age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms:

This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely
transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no
promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for
her/himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is
revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted
to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings
for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday
greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement
of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the
wisher.

Disclaimer: No trees were harmed in the sending of this message;
however, a significant number of electrons were slightly inconvenienced.

Have a lovely one (whatever it is.)

The Week Between

The What-chama-call-it Poem

This sort of thing is happening to a lot of us,

it starts out being mildly amusing, but soon

becomes a constant source of annoyance.

I’ve got used to my arthritis,

To my dentures I’m resigned,

I can cope with my bifocals,

But, God, I miss my mind.

Sometimes I can’t remember,

When I’m standing by the stair,

If I was going up for something,

Or have just come down from there.

If it’s not my turn to write dear

I hope you won’t get sore,

I may think that I have written and

Don’t want to be a bore.

So remember that I love you, and

Wished that you lived near,

Now it’s time to mail this

And say goodbye my dear.

At last, I stand beside the mail box,

And my face it sure is red;

For instead of posting this to you,

I’ve opened it instead.

Author Unknown

13 things a man can do at K-Mart ... 

while his wife is taking her sweet time.

 1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and  randomly put them in
people's trolleys when they aren't looking.

2. Set all the alarm clocks in homewares to go off at
5-minute intervals.

3 . Go into a fitting room, shut the door and wait a
while, then yell loudly:
"There's no toilet paper in here!".

4. Walk up to an  employee and tell him/her in an
official tone: 

"Code 3 in housewares!"  and see what happens.

5. Go to the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of
M&M's on lay-by.

6. Move a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to
a carpeted  area.

7. Set-up a tent in the Camping Department --
and tell other shoppers you're sleeping over;
invite them in if they bring pillows from the
bedding department.

8. When a clerk asks if they can  help you,
begin to cry and ask:
"Why can't you people just leave me ALONE!?  

9. Look right into the security camera, use it
as a mirror and pick your nose.

10. Dart around the store suspiciously, while
loudly humming the theme from "
Mission Impossible."

11. In the Auto Department, practice your "Madonna look"
using different sized funnels.

12. Hide in a clothing rack . . . and when people
browse through, say: "PICK ME!!! PICK ME!!!

13. When an announcement comes over the
loudspeaker, assume the fetal position and
scream "NOOOOOOOOOOO! It's those
voices again!!!"

The week after Christmas

While this was obviously written by a lady, the general

premise can be applied to a man, we have probably all

been guilty of a bit of over-indulgence in the past few

weeks, the price we pay sits there on our frames

declaring us to the world as overeater’s.

The week after Christmas

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste

All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales, there arose such a number!

When I walked to the store (less a walk more a lumber.)

I’d remember the the marvelous meals I’d prepared;

The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared…

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese

And the way that I’d never said, “No, thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt

And prepared once again to battle the dirt…

I said to myself, as only I can,

“You can’t spend the winter dressed like a man!”

So away with the last of the sour cream dip,

Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished

‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick,

I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or cornbread, or pie,

I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore…

But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle,

No longer a riot

Happy new years to all

And to all a good diet.

Author Unknown.

A Christmas Story.

Well folks we are very nearly there now, it’s Christmas Eve

did everyone hear that Christmas! Christmas! Christmas!!!

I wish for you all a joyous Christmas and A Happy New Year.

A Christmas Story

'Twas the night before Christmas..‘n Santa was pissed.

He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.

Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.

I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my ass for damn near a year,

Instead of "Thanks Santa".. what do I hear?

The old lady bitches cause I work late at night.

The elves want more money.. the reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.

Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.

And just when I thought that things would get better

Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter,

They say I owe taxes.. if that ain't damn funny

Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

 And the kids these days.. they all are the pits

They want the impossible.. those mean little sh*ts

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds

Assembling dolls.. their arms, legs and heads

I made a ton of yo yo's.. no request for them,

They want computers and robots.. they think, I'm IBM!

Flying through the air.. dodging the trees

Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees

I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment

I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,

I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season

Jingle Bells (Aussie style)

This is about as Aussie as it gets, for any of you who 

read my other blog, Poetry Galore, I apologize for 

the duplication, but I wanted to share this with the 

maximum number that I could.

 Jingle Bells (Aussie Style)

Dashing through the bush, 

In a rusty Holden Ute, 

Kicking up the dust, 

Esky in the boot, 

Kelpie by my side, 

Singing Christmas songs, 

It's Summer time and I am in 

My singlet, shorts and thongs 

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, 

Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey! 

Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut !, 

Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute. 

Engine's getting hot; 

We dodge the kangaroos, 

The swaggie climbs aboard, 

He is welcome too. 

All the family's there, 

Sitting by the pool, 

Christmas Day the Aussie way, 

By the barbecue. 

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, 

Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey! 

Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!, 

Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute. 

Come the afternoon, 

Grandpa has a doze, 

The kids and Uncle Bruce, 

Are swimming in their clothes. 

The time comes 'round to go, 

We take the family snap, 

Pack the car and all shoot through, 

Before the washing up. 

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, 

Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey! 

Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!, 

Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute.



Dunno who wrote it!

Best of Christmas Wishes

Sorry folks, you’re gonna have to put up with some weak

rhyming so that I can send you my Christmas wishes,

don’t worry (haha) I’m not gonna disappear or nuthin’

but you know how slow overseas mail can be so I’m just

gettin’ in early for the ones unlucky enough to live

elsewhere.

Best of Christmas wishes

To all my newfound blogging friends

I wish you Christmas cheer

May your stories all have happy ends

May the truth you give a little bend

As you raise an ice cold beer.

While I know that Margaritas are

More favored by some of you

You need to visit holtieshouse

Where nothin’ beats an icy beer,

Unless…. it’s quite a few!

These are the folk on my blogroll

And as well there’s quite a few

I try to read them daily, to miss ‘em is a sin

There are many other writers too

If I blogrolled them all, I’d never fit them in.

So now I’m gonna name you

The folk I love to read, when they have their say,

Plum Krazzee, Monty, Carolyn ‘n Cliff

Your sites I visit almost every day

We’re on a roll when Muzik plays another Riff.

I never miss FTS, Ivy, Jamie, Meg ‘n Jules

Even though the last named, has broken all the rules

(She has a “naughty” site where she’s trying to shock us)

There’s Davo, Judy, Laurie, Lois, ‘n Latigo

Bubba, Zac and my blogging son, Marcus.

Prerona, Theresa, Bob, Cyn ‘n then of course Maria

There’s Bugs Butt, Whizzer, Unga Chunga

The list goes on for ever, I’m really at a loss

But fit you in I must, Vickie, Dave ‘n Lucy

And there is our very own, the one we know as Hoss.

"Merry Christmas" to you all.
From Peter

Poetry that stirs my soul

I have become so enamored with the
"Bush Poetry"that I have been posting
that I started to wonder if all the
readers of my blog were as interested
as I am in poetry???  
So I have started a new blog
 dedicated to poetry
please call in and have a look, if it
isn't your cup of tea just pop back here
for all the usual fun things.
The first 8 poems at the new site are ones
I've already posted here, I headed them all
"Poetry that stirs my soul" todays new entry
is "The joys of farmin'."
Hope you enjoy your time on both sites.


Just a quick entry here, (I've spent bloody
hours on the other one today) these snippets
are to prove that men and women DON'T think
alike.


"IT'S A GUY THING">

Translated: "There is no rational
thought
pattern connected with it,
and you
have no
chance at all of making
it logical." 

"CAN I HELP WITH DINNER?" 

Translated: "Why isn't it already
on the
table?" 

"UH HUH," "SURE, HONEY," OR "YES, DEAR" 

Translated:
Absolutely nothing. It's a
conditioned response. 

"IT WOULD TAKE TOO LONG TO EXPLAIN" 

Translated:
"I have no idea how it works." 

"TAKE A BREAK, HONEY. YOU'RE WORKING TOO HARD." 

Translated: "I can't hear the game over the
vacuum cleaner." 

"THAT'S INTERESTING, DEAR." 

Translated: "Are you still talking?" 

"YOU KNOW HOW BAD MY MEMORY IS." 

Translated: "I remember the theme song
to 'F Troop,' the address of the first girl
I ever kissed and the vehicle identification
numbers of every car I've ever owned...
but I forgot your birthday." 

"DON'T FUSS, I JUST CUT MYSELF. IT'S NO BIG DEAL." 

Translated:
"I have actually severed a
limb but will bleed to death before I
admit that I'm hurt." 

"HEY, I'VE GOT MY REASONS FOR WHAT I'M DOING." 

Translated: "And I sure hope I think of
some pretty soon." 

"I CAN'T FIND IT."

Translated: "It didn't fall into my
outstretched hands, so I'm completely
clueless." 

"WHAT DID I DO THIS TIME?" 

Translated:
"What did you catch me at?" 

"I'M NOT LOST. I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE WE ARE." 

Translated: "No one will ever see us
alive again." 

"WE SHARE THE HOUSEWORK." 

Translated: "I make the messes;
she cleans them up." 

A Bush Christening

This poem was one of my Dads favourites and is also

one of mine, we played a recorded version recited by
Dad at his funeral service.

My son Marcus conducted the service which made it

very special, I have agreed that he conduct my funeral

service too, as long as the other kids make sure that

he says some nice things about me, “be creative, lie.”

if need be.

A Bush Christening

On the outer Barcoo where churches are few,

And men of religion are scanty,

On a road never crossed ’cept by folk that are lost,

One Michael Magee had a shanty.

Now Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,

Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;

He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest

For the youngster had never been christened.

And his wife used to cry, ”If our darlin’ should die

Saint Peter would not recognize him,”

But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,

Who agreed straightaway to baptize him.

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,

With his ear to the keyhole was listenin’,

And he muttered in fright while his features turned white,

What the divil and all is this christenin’?”

He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,

And it seemed to his small understanding,

If that man in the frock made him one of the flock,

It must mean something very like branding.

So away with a rush he set off for the bush,

While the tears in his eyelids they glistened –

“’Tis outrageous,” says he, “to brand youngsters like me,

I’ll be dashed if I’ll wait to be christened.”

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,

And his father with language uncivil,

Never heeding the “praste” cried aloud in his haste,

“Come out and be christened you divil!”

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,

And his parents in vain might reprove him,

Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)

“I’ve a notion” says he, “that’ll move him.”

“Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prod;

Poke him aisy – don’t hurt him or maim him,

‘Tis not long that he’ll stand, I’ve the water at hand,

As he rushes out of this end here I’ll name him.”

Here he comes, and for shame! I’ve forgotten the name,

Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?”

Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout,

“Take a chance anyhow wid Maginnis."

As the howling youg cub ran away to the scrub

Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,

The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head

That was labeled “Maginnis’s Whiskey.”

And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.

And the one thing he hates more than sin is

To be asked by the folk who have heard of the joke,

How he came to be christened “Maginnis” !

By A B “banjo” Patterson.

Bush Poetry 7

This is another poem that had an immediate impact on me.
I hope you enjoy it too.

The Bush Barman

I saw him through the window, just a shadow on the street;

A haunted look about him, shuffling slowly on his feet.

He came up to the doorway, stopped a while, and peered about,

And watching as he entered, I could tell his luck was out.

His clothes were worn and shabby and his face betrayed his life,

Within its greying stubble plaintive lines marched deep and rife.

His voice was just a whisper as he asked me for a drink,

Then he pulled a bar-stool closer and he squatted on it’s brink.

I asked him how his day was and he answered with a grunt,

His manner uncongenial and his body language blunt.

His fingers trembled slightly as he slowly sipped his beer,

Eyes focused somewhere distant, lost in thoughts of yesteryear.

I studied him in silence while he drank a couple more,

And couldn’t help remarking that we’d often met before.

He said he didn’t think so and appeared about to go,

But I stopped with a gesture, “There’s some things you ought to know”

I sensed his inner turmoil as he struggled to decide,

Then the demon on his shoulder stood reluctantly aside,

He stared at me intently, then he shrugged and said, “Okay”,

So I filled a brace of glasses and directed one his way.

“We left the land where we were born and trusting to our fate,

We went to meet our destiny before it grew to late.

We sensed that youths horizons had forever been outgrown,

And sailed upon the first fleet to explore the great unknown.”

“We went inland with Stuart, and we trekked with Burke & Wills,

We rode with Sturt and Leichhardt, crossing deserts, plains and hills,

We pioneered the outback, fighting sickness, floods and drought,

And never shirked the challenge as we ventured further out”.

“We shore the sheep by thousands, rising each day with the sun,

And vied to hold the title of the shearing shed’s ‘top gun’.

We pushed the cattle overland where none had gone before.

And now the ‘Overlander’ is enshrined in our folklore”.

“We picked the fruit, we cut the cane, we ploughed this arid soil,

Content with any blessings that resulted from our toil.

We took our chances, ran the risks, and never thought to fail,

For life beneath the Southern Cross would not support the frail”.

“We built the cities, formed the roads, and laid the railway tracks,

And when the times were less than kind we watched each others backs.

We raised our voices for a dream, that dream was Federation,

When other voices joined our own – Australia was a nation”.

“When destitution threatened and ensnared us in its fears,

We took Matilda waltzing through the great depression years.

We walked the endless highways and the lonely outback tracks,

With nothing more than fortune and the swags upon our backs”.

“And when our nation called its sons to drive away the foe,

We fought beneath Australia’s flag wherever it would go.

From the killing fields of Europe to Gallipoli’s blood stained sea,

We forged the Anzac spirit that has kept this nation free”.

“We held the reins for Cobb & Co, and rode with Kelly’s gang,

We applauded from the front row when Dame Nellie Melba sang.

We drove the herds for Kidman, rode with Clancy in his prime,

And recited , with a passion, all of Henry Lawson’s rhyme”.

“We made a ton with Bradman, swam with Fraser in the pool,

When Laver won the championship we both felt ten feet tall.

We took a mark with Farmer, and watched Phar Lap hit his straps,

For no-one likes to have a go more than we ‘Aussie’ chaps”.

“We were settlers searching for a dream, convicts bound in chains,

We were children of the ‘Dreamtime’ from the deserts and the plains.

We came from countries scattered wide, from far of destinations,

From walks of life that represented all denominations”.

“So friend, it’s quite a story, all those times we both have met,

And I reckon you’ll be wondering how on earth you could forget.

But we sometimes lose direction, for the maze of life is vast,

And forget that we’re connected to the future and the past.”

The stranger’s glass was empty so I filled it to the brink,

And I knew when he said “Thank you” that it wasn’t for the drink.

He walked toward the doorway with a new, determined air,

And I swear I heard him whistling, ‘Advance Australia Fair’.

Geoff Hendrick.