STUCK UP SANTA

Its coming towards the end of July.In Australia we do a funny thing,because its too hot at Christmas to have a traditional Christmas dinner,we have what we call "Christmas In July".Its the middle of winter so everyone welcomes the Turkey etc that you, in other parts of the world would enjoy in December.Not that all of this has anything to do with this poem,its just an explanation as to why Santa would come to my mind at this time of the year.

IT WAS HALF PAST ONE ON CHRISTMAS MORN.
WHEN,A KNOCKING AT MY DOOR
CAME THIS LITTLE SCREAMING GREEN DRESSED ELF,
"SANTA'S STUCK IN NUMBER FOUR".
SO,I WANDERED DOWN TO HAVE A LOOK
AND SEE WHAT WAS THIS FARCE.
THERE STICKING OUT THE CHIMNEY WAS,
BLACK BOOTS,AND SANTA'S ARSE.

"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?" I ASKED THE ELF,
"ITS NEVER BEEN BEFORE,
SANTA'S BEEN DOING THIS,"I SAID
"FOR A THOUSAND YEARS OR MORE"
"TOO MUCH PUD,"HE TOLD ME
"AND TOO MUCH CAKE AND BEER,
HE'S TWO STONE HEAVIER THAN HE WAS,
TWELVE MONTHS,THIS TIME OF YEAR".

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?" HE SAID
"THE CART IS FULL OF TOYS,
WE'VE STILL GOT A THOUSAND DROPS TO DO
FOR ALL THE GIRLS AND BOYS".
SO,I STOOD THERE THINKING FOR A WHILE,
HUMMING CHRISTMAS TUNES.
WHEN I SUDDENLY HAD A BRAIN WAVE,
"I'LL GO AND GET THE PRUNES"

WELL,I GOT THEM,AND I CAME BACK.
THEN QUIET AS A MOUSE,
IN THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW,
I CREPT THROUGH MY NEIGHBOURS HOUSE.
IN THE LOUNGE ROOM WAS THE FIRE,
BULGING,LIKE THE CHIMNEY'D BUST,
AND WITH ALL OF SANTA'S STRUGGLING,
THE PLACE WAS FULL,OF SOOT AND DUST

AS I LOOKED UP THE CHIMNEYS DARKNESS
OF THAT FIRE PLACE.
THERE,FIVE FEET ABOVE ME,
WAS SANTA'S SOOTED FACE.
"HI SANTA,HOW YA GOIN?"
"I'M STUCK HERE,DON'T YOU KNOW ?
AND I'M REALLY BLOODY GRUMPY,
THERE'LL BE NO HO HO HO."

"GET THESE INTO YA SANTA,"I SAID,
PASSING HIM THE PRUNES.
"YOU'LL KNOW JUST WHEN THEY START TO WORK,
YOU'LL BE PLAYING DIFFERENT TUNES."
FOR HALF AN HOUR WE WAITED,
THEN THE PRUNES BEGAN TO START,
AND SANTA ANNOUNCED IT TO THE WORLD,
WITH A GIANT ENORMOUS FART.

HE FLEW RIGHT OUT THE CHIMNEY
AND LANDED ON THE FLOOR,
HE QUICKLY EMPTIED OUT HIS BAG,
THEN SHOT OUT THROUGH THE DOOR.
IN A FLASH JUMPED IN HIS SLEIGH,
AND,AS THE STORY'S SINCE BEEN TELLED
HIS ROUND WAS FINISHED IN HALF THE TIME,
THANKS TO PRUNE PROPELLED.

ENAMAZING STORY

It was 32 years ago this August,that I decided to come to Autralia,which I did,in December 1973,obviously just before Xmas that year.I had been living with an Australian girl in London,who after being in England for three years had decided it was time she went home to Australia.As I said ,we lived in London,but she was born and bred in an arsehole of a place called Boggabri,a small town that sits on the river Namoi in country New South Wales.If ever there was a town that resembled the outback towns you hear of in T V shows or movies,Boggabri is it.It is a horrible town,dry ,red soil and within it lived who was at the time my prospective father in-law.He who will remain nameless, he was also horrible,and just as a bonus he hated Pommie Bastards--like me.As it was ,the girl that dragged me all the way from London to Australia---dumped me after being here a few days,and went back to the boyfriend she had before she went to England.As I said,Boggabri a horrible place,girls Dad a horrible man,and as for the girl-? funny enough 25 years later we hooked up again for a short while,and guess what ? She was a horrible person.I dedicate this song(yes folks a song) to the lot of em.


FROM LONDON BRIDGE,TO RIDGY DIDGE
I'VE LIVED A LIFE TO TELL.
FROM KEN STREET HIGH,TO BOGGABRI
FROM PARADISE,TO HELL.
FROM ENGLANDS SOIL,TO SHEARER'S TOIL,
I'VE SEEN IT ALL I FEAR.
BUT IF AUSTRALIA NEEDS AN ENEMA
WELL,BOGGABRI'S ITS REAR.

IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI
WHAT A PARTY I WOULD THROW OH BOY!
I'VE SEEN AS MUCH OF IT AS I CAN BARE
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE,
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN MY FACE,
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE.

I WENT THERE FOR A DAY,ONE HOUR
COULDN'T EVEN GET A BLOODY SHOWER,
ITS A PLACE WHERE BEER IS CHEAPER THAN THE WATER.
BUT THOUGH THE BATH WAS SADLY MISSED
I HIT THE PUB
GOT BADLY PISSED
TO END UP SLEEPING WITH THE FARMERS DAUGHTER

WELL,THAT KIND OF ENDED ALL THE FUN,
THE OLD BOY WENT AND GOT HIS GUN,
LOADED,PULLED THE TRIGGER,BOY IT BLASTED!
WELL I BELTED DOWN THE ROAD
AS HE STARTED TO RE-LOAD
SHOUTING "I'LL KILL YOU;
YOU ROTTEN POMMIE BASTARD."

IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI,
WHAT A PARTY THERE WOULD BE OH BOY !
I'VE SEEN AS MUCH OF IT AS I CAN BARE.
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE,
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN ME FACE,
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE

WELL,THE MAIL TRAIN LEFT QUITE LATE,
IT SEEMED THAT SYDNEY WAS ME FATE.
BUT I HAD ONE LAST MESSAGE FOR HER OLD MAN.
WE WERE TRAVELLING SECOND CLASS
DROPPED ME DAKS AND FLASHED ME ARSE
WHISTLING DIXIE AND SHOUTING CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

CAUSE IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI,
WHAT A PARTY I WOULD THROW OH BOY !
I SAW AS MUCH OF IT AS I COULD BARE,
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN ME FACE
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDNT CARE----
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE
SHOULD AUSTRALIA NEED AN ENEMA
I'VE FOUND ITS REAR

STILL CRYING INSIDE

I don't know,I keep saying I should write a happy one,and then I start thinking,and things happen around the World,and so my thoughts turn to sadness.Maybe I'm just a miserable bastard thats destined to be the poor mans Leonard Cohen.I reckon when people die,or remove themselves from your life,there must be one hell of a void that we fill or ignore simply because its expected of us,you know,its ok to mourn for a while,but enough is enough,get over it,well I think some people just can't work that way,I'm sure they try very hard,but They're "Still Crying Inside"


HIS SLIPPERS,STILL SIT BY THE FIRESIDE,
HIS PIPE'S IN A RACK BY HIS CHAIR.
THE ROOM SMELLS OF ERINMORE MIXTURE.
ITS AS IF,ITS AS IF HE'S STILL HERE.
THERE'S A BOTTLE OF BROWN ALE,THAT SITS IN THE FRIDGE,
THAT I NEVER WILL DRINK,THAT'S FOR SURE.
HIS FAVOURITE VIDEO,SITS READY TO GO,
WHICH I WON'T HAVE TO WATCH ANYMORE.

HIS WASHING,STILL SITS IN THE BASKET,
DO I WASH IT,OR THROW IT AWAY?
AND HIS DOG ONCE MORE,SITS AT THE DOOR,
BUT THERE'LL BE NO WALKIES TODAY.
I DON'T THINK I CAN LAY IN MY BED ANYMORE,
ITS LONELY,AND NIGHTS SEEM SO LONG.
I DON'T SLEEP ANYWAY,UNTIL ITS NEAR DAY
AND SOMEHOW,EVERYTHING SEEMS SO WRONG.

NOW THE LAWNS NEED MOWING,THE HEDGE WANTS A TRIM,
THE HOUSE NEED A PAINT,BOTH OUTSIDE AND IN,
WHO'S GOING TO DO IT,WHERE DO I BEGIN ?
CAUSE HE,ALWAYS DID IT,IT ALWAYS WAS HIM.
BUT,I HAVE TO MOVE ON,THAT,I PROMISED,
AND I'LL SHOW A BRAVE FACE AS I GO.
MY SORROW I'LL HIDE,WHILST STILL CRYING INSIDE,
CAUSE I MISS HIM ,SO MUCH-----YOU KNOW?

WHAT A WHOPPER

I can eat,and I mean I CAN EAT but a while back I went to the local pub for what we call in Australia a counter lunch,I ordered the steak,no real meaning in this poem,no worldly rants or solving lives problems,it was just a BIG steak.


I TELL YOU MATE,YOU AINT HAD A STEAK,
AS BIG,NOT FAT,ALL LEAN.
TILL YOU'VE HAD THE ONE LIKE I HAD,
AT A PUB CALLED "THE TOURMALINE"
YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE SIZE OF IT,
WHEN IT FINALLY DID ARRIVE,
READY TO EAT AT HALF PAST EIGHT,
ORDERED AT TEN TO FIVE

BUT,THERE WAS GOOD REASON FOR THIS WAIT.
THIS FINE,AND JUICY STEAK
WAS TOO BIG FOR THE BBQ
ONLY ONE AT A TIME COULD TAKE.
PEOPLE CAME FROM DARWIN,
FROM OUR NATIONS FARTHEST EDGE
TO THE PLACE THEY SERVE A STEAK SO BIG,
NO ROOM ON THE PLATE FOR VEG.

A GASTRONOMICAL DELIGHT
OF GIGANTUOUS PROPORTIONS,
YOU COULD NEVER FIT THE WHOLE LOT IN
DESPITE YOUR TUMS CONTORTIONS.
YOU COULD FEED THE WHOLE OF CHINA
WITH JUST ONE OF THESE FINE DISHES,
JESUS ONLY FED FIVE THOUSAND
WITH FIVE LOAVES AND THREE FISHES.

THESE ANIMALS CHOPPED INTO "FRIGHT SIZE PIECES"
ARE ESPECIALLY BRED,
KEPT IN LUSH GREEN PASTURES,
ON ONLY THE BEST GRAIN FED.
THEY SAY,IT IS A MASSIVE BEAST.
AND BRED THIS WAY WHAT'S MORE,
BY MIXING THE GENES OF A BUFFALO,
WITH THAT,OF A DINOSAUR.

CHERISH THE MEMORIES

Comes a time when the sadness has to stop,we can feel sorry for ourselves forever,or we can after a reasonable length of time say "Ive got to get on with it" and unless we've lived a totally miserable life (which surely some have)most of us have a tool that can help us get over, or through these hard times.Those of you that know me,would know that my Dad died when I was very young,leaving my wonderful Mum with six children,and I've often wondered how the hell she got through,and I reckon she must have used the tool,she Cherished The Memories.


MANY,IS THE TIME I'VE WONDERED,
AND I WISH,THAT I COULD SEE.
THE THINGS THAT REALLY MADE ME TICK,
THE THINGS THAT MADE ME,ME.
TO TRAVEL THROUGH LIFE'S BUMPY PATH,
WITH ITS UPS,AND ITS DOWNS.
THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY,
THE THINGS THAT BRING ON FROWNS.
LIFE'S GOOD,LIFE'S ROTTEN
SOME THINGS I'M SURE,
ARE BEST FORGOTTEN.
SO,LETS KEEP THE GOOD,
DEFY THE BAD.
AND CHERISH PRECIOUS THINGS
WE'VE HAD.
LET MEMORIES BE
OUR GUIDE THROUGH PAIN,AND
OUR PLEASANT TIMES
RELIVE AGAIN.
AND AGAIN AND AGAIN
IF IT BE NEEDED.
UNTIL OUR TROUBLED TIMES
RECEEDED. CHERISH THE MEMORIES.