Now for a bit of “Australian culture”
by the working persons poet Jim Sharp
This has something for everyone – if you know the bush, it will appeal to you, if you work in the oil industry, there is something in it for you too, if you have a sense of humour – well, it might test it a little. If you are not an Australian, then you may need an Aussie to explain it to you.
I have been informed that this copy of this poem has been posted without credit to the author Grahame Watt. The correct title of the poem is actually ‘Poor ‘Ol Grandad’ and the poem was written and published in his book of the same name, ‘Poor Old Grandad’ released in 2001. He has released a total of 3 books and a CD and can be emailed directly at firstname.lastname@example.org.
‘Poor Old Granddad’
Poor old Granddad’s passed away, cut off in his prime,
He never had a day off crook – gone before his time,
We found him in the dunny, collapsed there on the seat,
A startled look upon his face, his trousers around his feet,
The doctor said his heart was good – fit as any trout,
The Constable he had his say, ‘foul play’ was not ruled out.
There were theories at the inquest of snakebite without trace,
Of redbacks quietly creeping and death from outer space,
No-one had a clue at all – the judge was in some doubt,
When Dad was called to have his say as to how it came about,
‘I reckon I can clear it up,’ said Dad with trembling breath,
‘You see it’s quite a story – but it could explain his death.’
‘This here exploration mob had been looking at our soil,
And they reckoned that our farm was just the place to look for oil.
So they came and put a bore down and said they’d make some trials,
They drilled a hole as deep as hell, they said about three miles!
Well, they never found a trace of oil and off they went, post haste.
But I couldn’t see a hole like that go to flamin’ waste,
So I moved the dunny over it – a real smart move I thought –
I’d never have to dig again – I’d never be ‘caught short’.
The day I moved the dunny, it looked a proper sight,
But I didn’t dream poor Granddad would pass away that night,
Now I reckon what has happened – poor Granddad didn’t know,
The dunny was re-located when that night he had to go.
And you’ll probably be wondering how poor Granddad did his dash–
Well, he always used to hold his breath
Until he heard the splash!!
it dropped into my inbox
but the author is anonymous
but it feels to me like its come out
of the anti fracking struggle
Jim Sharp writes daily and sends me his gems.
For those who do not know Jim Sharp the poet
get his book Leftside
and read more here