I said to a rep one day: " You had a haircut during working hours?" He said" Yep, It grew during working hours!" I said, " Not all of it!" He replied, " I didn't have all of it cut!!! hahahaha Mackka
The Poetry Section
- Thread starter johnb
- Start date
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silver
silver
- Joined
- Dec 19, 2013
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Here's one I just whipped up
At last
End of life has come around
The old crew almost gone
Just a few still holding on
Awaiting times of rest
Be our turn soon
For we are next
To hold the flame on high
We'll bare the oldies sash
Our hobbling gate
Of creaking and groaning
Our silence held
Of due course moaning
Knowing quiet contemplation
Of facts that would astound
Secrets kept unto the grave
Treasures in the ground
Audiences ghosting sparse
As other lives awhirl
But happiness of inner kind
As lifetime doth unwind.
We'll see the world a changing
Afore our very eyes
A multitude of babies
Their love and all their cries
All things we've only dreamed of
Appearing in the world
With hints of oh amazing
The orchestration of will bring
We'll cosy up and hunker down
Look for ease of life
Find a patch that's beautiful
To live out our whole life
And when our time It comes around
We can be so astute
To contemplate or forborne fate
With readiness of will
With pen in hand
And love in mind
We therefore leave
Our final heart felt wish
Then our final cries of sorrow
As we leave this mortal coil
Turn all to blackest happiness
As we worry here no more
Silver
170830112022
At last
End of life has come around
The old crew almost gone
Just a few still holding on
Awaiting times of rest
Be our turn soon
For we are next
To hold the flame on high
We'll bare the oldies sash
Our hobbling gate
Of creaking and groaning
Our silence held
Of due course moaning
Knowing quiet contemplation
Of facts that would astound
Secrets kept unto the grave
Treasures in the ground
Audiences ghosting sparse
As other lives awhirl
But happiness of inner kind
As lifetime doth unwind.
We'll see the world a changing
Afore our very eyes
A multitude of babies
Their love and all their cries
All things we've only dreamed of
Appearing in the world
With hints of oh amazing
The orchestration of will bring
We'll cosy up and hunker down
Look for ease of life
Find a patch that's beautiful
To live out our whole life
And when our time It comes around
We can be so astute
To contemplate or forborne fate
With readiness of will
With pen in hand
And love in mind
We therefore leave
Our final heart felt wish
Then our final cries of sorrow
As we leave this mortal coil
Turn all to blackest happiness
As we worry here no more
Silver
170830112022
So true mate.
Gold Fever.part 2.
When you awake in the morning the birds may be singing
Or the valley hushed and stilled
There's breakfast to be cooking
And the billy to be filled.
The days are filled with the swishing And rattling of your pan
As you scan it with your wide-eyes
Just as fast as you flamin can
And the lure is that this time You'll be lucky, just this flamin once
And you'll not go home with pockets empty.
And feeling like a dunce.
There's gold out there for the taking You just have to separate it from the dirt
To go prospecting with my friends,I'll swear I'd sell my flamin shirt. Copyright 2022.R.Langlands.
When you awake in the morning the birds may be singing
Or the valley hushed and stilled
There's breakfast to be cooking
And the billy to be filled.
The days are filled with the swishing And rattling of your pan
As you scan it with your wide-eyes
Just as fast as you flamin can
And the lure is that this time You'll be lucky, just this flamin once
And you'll not go home with pockets empty.
And feeling like a dunce.
There's gold out there for the taking You just have to separate it from the dirt
To go prospecting with my friends,I'll swear I'd sell my flamin shirt. Copyright 2022.R.Langlands.
A bloody good job Silver...!
So often heard the tails of woe
Of lack of land to swing
The injustice and the wrong of it
As more gates no longer swing
So many believe it is their right
Upon any land to wander
Yet as they do so many times
The owners rights they squander
They buy the book and all the gear
To seek their fortunes bold
And as they do it slowly grows
The fever for the gold
The wife is promised fortunes
For all the money that is spent
Her not so convinced it’s viable
Or in fact will pay the rent
They lurk among the forums
In fact at times for years
Posting rarely in fact if ever
Unless fuelled by many beers
The questions asked in innocence
Or so it would appear
Wanting to know the special spot
Or at least point me somewhere near
The day has come the trip is on
For the golden rock they seek
They kiss the wife and pat the dog
Shall be gone for but a week
Who’s land it is they wander
They do not really care
Jack the station owner has heaps
So the least he can do is share
Fences, gates and signs
Blinded they do not see
If the station owner comes calling
I’ll just offer him a fee
They are all mighty bushmen
So remote does hold no fear
Plus they have the gadget
But unawares no one is near
Luckily Jack came looking
Curious as to tracks he found
Those with litter and cigarette butts
Found you beside a termite mound
You showed him no respect
For either his home or land
But still when most you need it
To you he extends his hand
How lucky it is you are
To now be back at home
Perhaps more thought will follow
Before again it is you roam
Catch you in a paddock perhaps ?
Of lack of land to swing
The injustice and the wrong of it
As more gates no longer swing
So many believe it is their right
Upon any land to wander
Yet as they do so many times
The owners rights they squander
They buy the book and all the gear
To seek their fortunes bold
And as they do it slowly grows
The fever for the gold
The wife is promised fortunes
For all the money that is spent
Her not so convinced it’s viable
Or in fact will pay the rent
They lurk among the forums
In fact at times for years
Posting rarely in fact if ever
Unless fuelled by many beers
The questions asked in innocence
Or so it would appear
Wanting to know the special spot
Or at least point me somewhere near
The day has come the trip is on
For the golden rock they seek
They kiss the wife and pat the dog
Shall be gone for but a week
Who’s land it is they wander
They do not really care
Jack the station owner has heaps
So the least he can do is share
Fences, gates and signs
Blinded they do not see
If the station owner comes calling
I’ll just offer him a fee
They are all mighty bushmen
So remote does hold no fear
Plus they have the gadget
But unawares no one is near
Luckily Jack came looking
Curious as to tracks he found
Those with litter and cigarette butts
Found you beside a termite mound
You showed him no respect
For either his home or land
But still when most you need it
To you he extends his hand
How lucky it is you are
To now be back at home
Perhaps more thought will follow
Before again it is you roam
Catch you in a paddock perhaps ?
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A Bogger original?
bloody ripper bogger
Fantastic and so true, thanks mate.
Here is a favorite of mine - I found it on TROVE years ago whilst a member of a U3A group researching our local history - it was published in "The Mercury" Fitzroy, Victoria, on 26th August 1876.
The Driver's Song....
With tarpaulins unfolded at close of the day,
Behold us encamped by the side of our dray,
Forgetting the hills and the gullies we've passed,
Content to have reached a safe haven at last.
Forgetting the troubles of Blucher or Snip,
Who heeded no shouting, no swearing, or whip,
Who "jibbed" at the "pinches," and scarce gave a pull,
To help us along with our burden of wool.
The low flats are boggy, the rises are steep,
The "blind creeks" are dusty; the rivers are deep.
Old bullocks! You've work to do and be done,
And long is your stage from the rise of the sun,
Both offside and nearside are animals fine
,Fond looks from their mild eyes at times flash to mine,
With kindness I rule them, and this they well know.
As unyoked after toil to new pastures they go.
Good luck, fellow drivers wherever you steer.
May your lives from misfortune and bad grog be clear,
May you follow your calling with honour and pride,
And reach fortune's summit by means of greenhide.
by anonymous
The Driver's Song....
With tarpaulins unfolded at close of the day,
Behold us encamped by the side of our dray,
Forgetting the hills and the gullies we've passed,
Content to have reached a safe haven at last.
Forgetting the troubles of Blucher or Snip,
Who heeded no shouting, no swearing, or whip,
Who "jibbed" at the "pinches," and scarce gave a pull,
To help us along with our burden of wool.
The low flats are boggy, the rises are steep,
The "blind creeks" are dusty; the rivers are deep.
Old bullocks! You've work to do and be done,
And long is your stage from the rise of the sun,
Both offside and nearside are animals fine
,Fond looks from their mild eyes at times flash to mine,
With kindness I rule them, and this they well know.
As unyoked after toil to new pastures they go.
Good luck, fellow drivers wherever you steer.
May your lives from misfortune and bad grog be clear,
May you follow your calling with honour and pride,
And reach fortune's summit by means of greenhide.
by anonymous
Mrs Boobook penned this poem during one of her trips to WA with husband Mr Boobook. RIP Michael.
Can anyone remember the tale of " Simpson and Delightful"? All I can remember is - " and he slew a thousand Philistines with the Ass bone of a Jew" I need it for a church recital. Thanks
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2015
- Messages
- 143
- Reaction score
- 246
I remember Ivan Skavinsky Skavar and Abdul Abulbul Amir
Maybe lookup "Samson slays a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass"
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