A likely tale - For the 3 Rivers Mob - Xmas 08)
***
The sign post called it 'Greenvale'
'Twas rocky, dry 'n' brown
At least that's how it was
On the day that I hit town
If the joint held a treasure
It kept itself well hid
Then I spied the pub
Just beyond the grid
Three Rivers HO!Tel...
One eye began to gleam
Echo's come to me
Of a bygone Dusty dream...
Pay dirt! Rich!
My pen began to itch
Dusty trails lead to gold
In my sights I had 'em cold
How green was their vale?
How gruesome could it get?
Someone's strummin' somethin'
They haven't named yet...
It seems the jukebox died
'Twas young Mick on guitar
Faint echo's of a fable
Nah! I wouldn't go that far
And then – My God, Jasper!
It stood there in the bar
Loudest of the larrikins
A humanized Galah!
Someone called him 'Poppy'
The barmaid's worst nightmare
I've heard other names...
But I'd like to be fair
Now... there's gotta be booze
Where laughter is rife
Wherever there's booze
There's gotta be strife
Her name was Sandra
Glowing with cheer
A woman in pain
Just sipping her beer...
"Wingnut!"...He croaked
"She's been in a blue
I wouldn't get too close
The copper done it, too..."
So – the 'barmaid' was battered
The Galah served in lieu
The publican sez
It's the best she can do
The Postmaster General
(They reckon he's French)
He sez it was so
As he clung to his bench
He lurched to the left
And seemed to be gagging
On his right, Father Christmas
Appeared to be sagging
"Mongrels all of them!
There's none any good..."
A scathing by Scowan
(The 'misunderstood')
By the bullshitter's bell
For the truly hard bitten
In pride of place
'Uncle' was 'sittin'
A giant called 'Captain'
Was taking a stance
Somebody muttered
"It's underpants..."
Whilst, three sheets to the wind
In a mild Irish glow
Kelly was caught
In the undertow...
Winded and wheezing
Through tears of delight
He tried to explain
What happened that night
"...Mick 'n' Kim dunnit
Out on Jervoise
She's cracked!" he squarked
I mourned his choice...
Smoke slowly rose
From the barmaid's ears
A murmur...soo mild...
"You'll keep... my dears..."
For the truth?
We must trust the flying doctor
Who came to her aid
When the party game knocked her
At the Johnson's joust
( A footy game, too )
The poor girl was fractured
She turned black and blue
Not only but also
With help from the copper
They reckon she went
For a hell of a cropper
Sez Stacey; "me mum
Was meant for the river
Now those mugs are in it
A bit's on her liver..."
Ho! Ho! Laugh, me hearty's!
I'll just take a pew
When the barmaid gets better
I wouldn't be you
MCB
YOU ARE READING
COUNTRY COLLECTABLES - BUSH VERSE by MCB
PoetryThe usual word from the author: "Hand on heart - motor runnin' There she flies! Outback gunnin' A wicked grin, syringe and pen Gotcha! Ha! Pants down! Agen!" Once again I thank all those who assist me to immortalize some of the scallywags...
