Poetry 2 Pt3 My Way Tour – Outback then home.

At the township of Wauchope, a bit down the track,

Cricket’s a great relaxation.

Should a ball fall upon the roof of the pub,

All adjourn for a generous libation.

The batsmen all aim for the roof of the pub –

While the game’s on they all drink alot.

The fans and the players at day’s end, in fact,

Are quite rotten and stinking and shot.

One day o’er the grandstand a fellow was draped:

His face had a horrible twist.

An odour of beer killed the flies at ten feet.

He was totally Mozart and Liszt.

Ted Hill who’d stopped by, sought further advice;

“Pray, who is this beer=sodden wreck?”

His informant said, “Well, we’ve been playing three days …

… And this is the Umpire, by heck!”

“How utterly crude,” said Ted. “Surely the cop

Who looks after the law around here

Could pick up this joker and shove him in jail,

Thus removing the odour of beer.”

The man said: “The thing is, this Umpire you see,

Whose smell alcoholic won’t cease,

Is also a much valued townsman. He’s our …

… Representative of the Police!”

Lest you should think that we’re rough and uncouth,

Our tour had it’s cultural side.

In Darwin we studied the farming of crocs;

At Katherine – The Gorge! – High and wide.

At Alice the work of the old pioneers

In the Centre, in great isolation,

Was brought to us clearly. We marvelled how they

Had helped to establish our Nation.

We were slated to visit the great Standley Chasm

Where dingoes ferocious are found.

Ted said: “Now Marj, please … Just a quick word …

… Concerning your playful pet hound.”

“Just keep the Blue Heeler on heat do you mind …?

Oh, my Gawd … That’s all wrong … NOT on heat!

Just keep him away from those wild dingo dogs.

Make sure he’s chained up to your seat!”

“Forty long years have we two been wed,”

Said Marj, “and it’s quite plain to see …

… The bugger’s a wild uncontrollable dog.

Why, he worked for the old PMG!”

Once more a Casino – At Alice this time.

Spend a bit! Why not lighten your packs?

If you hold on, tenacious, you know that mendacious

Public servants will take it in tax!

The pokies spewed coins. Jess shouted: “I’ve won!

The casino has come up with pay dirt!”

A frenzy gripped Jess – She pressed coins in galore

But she lost the damned lot plus her Tay-Shirt.*

*Irish for T-Shirt

Noel Fullarton’s place has camels galore;

Each one of us got up to ride ‘em.

It’s a toss-up which sight is more greatly bizarre –

The camels or people astride ‘em.

Mavis the elder, leaving her beast,

Staggered bow-legged over the course.

She looked like a cowboy who, riding the range,

Has been sitting too long on his horse.

But Mavis the Younger sat up there in style;

She really deserved a medallion.

Quite clearly she felt for a moment as if

She was home on her thoroughbred stallion.

The camel boy helped Irene down from her steed.

(He told her his mates called him “Andy”.)

She cried: “Oh, my God! This is all that I need!

I’m sure I’ve gone totally bandy!”

The Roll of those heroes who got to the top

Of Ayer’s Rock shall now be set out:-

Melva and Nevill, Bev, Barry and Mavis –

The stars of our Rock Walkabout!

Regarding Ayers Rock it was Bob who came up

With a scheme both bizarre and original.

“Do away with th climb. Put a flying fox in.

Help the oldies and folk aboriginal.”

Most of our Mob took a flight round The Rock

And The Olgas … In glorious weather.

Kids in their teens flew our flying machines

With expertise and no effort whatever.

We had a short sip at the red Sunset Strip.

Then as sunset gave way to the night,

The huge … colour-changing … great bulk of Ayers Rock

Slipped softly and gently from sight.

Coober Pedy’s next stop … The weather stays fine …

Everybody is having a ball.

With these few brief words your Scribe now signs off.

Thank you Ted, thank you Baz, thank you all.


We finally enter a township of dust –

Immense mullock heaps all around.

“Coober Pedy,” in fact, in the old native tongue,


Men toil just like moles beneath the brown earth.

Will the hard rock its jewels ever yield?

Houses and churches are built underground

In the world’s largest known opal field.

Our coach stops outside the Umoonah Mine

And inside we all of us trundle.

The opals displayed are so sparkling and bright

Each one of the guys drops a bundle.

The girls on their fingers have opals like fire,

(And for all that I know on their toes);

Each guy has a dazed sort of look on his face

And an overdraft wherever he goes.

Barry and Ted checked the nightclub at Coober;

They thought that it might be a ripper.

They said that the girls were all A-One Okay,

But completely wrote off the male stripper.

The ladies cried, “Ted, why can’t WE come along?”

Ted said, “Girls, now please … I’d be HUNG …

If I took you ladies to a show out of Hades …

AnyWAY… You are ALL … Far too YOUNG!

“Old ladies I’d take … OLD ones have calmed down …

But NEVER young ones in their prime.

There could be a riot ‘cos none of you girls

Is older than sweet thirty nine.”

Coober behind us, we’re out on the road,

Just like a southerly buster.

Before daylight fails we shall all have arrived

Way down at the Port of Augusta.

Nelson and Jess toddle often up front,

Inventiveness never yet waning.

Jess tells us yarns of galahs in the toot,

The Blue Heeler’s most entertaining.

The bus gave a jerk. Ted said: “Listen, Jess, love –

If your hand on my knee starts to roam

I must tell you, my dear, I’ve now spent damn near

Two full weeks away from my home.”

Jess said: “That’s enough of your nonsense and stuff!

Just give us no more of that bosh!

The bus jerked; had I fallen, then Teddy, old boy,

You’d have gotten one hell of a squash!”

“The trouble with men – they can’t help it, poor dears,

Is – giving no reason or rhyme –

They lose their docility, get full of virility –

And think it’s once more Christmas time.”

It’s far from surprising that Nelson is known

As Professor and Surgeon of Trees.

He has lectured on this and on Blue Heeler Dogs

Upon which he shows great expertise.

Remarkable trees are the type “Never-never.”

(They’re not found in any museum).

Nor are they found in any place else,

“Cos you never, but never can see ‘em.

At the Port called Augusta we’d beds soft and warm;

Our sleep was calm, sweet and profound.

The exception was Bev, who’d not slept a wink.

(She denied Bill had chased her around).

We crossed Spencer Gulf, drove through Horrocks’ Pass,

Had a comfort stop at Orroroo;

(An old fashioned town with horse hitching posts,

And a ballroom-sized gentlemen’s loo).

We pulled up for lunch at a wild one-horse joint,

A place that was called “Mannhill”.

But anyone hoping to find manna there

Must have been some sort of dill.

They locked up the pub, refused us their toots,

Would not even give us a beer.

Ted said to the boss: “Your rotten pub stinks.

Be sure that we won’t come back here.”

At Broken later a banquet chinese

Was eaten, and Oh! What a feast!

With chopsticks deployed everybody enjoyed

Exotic delights of the east.

Certificates issued to all on this night –

To those who were Ayers Rock ‘On-toppers,”

Who’d travelled the long north-south bitumen road …

And those who were just “Chicken Rockers.”

Why, even those chaps who looked once at Ayers Rock …

And gave up! … (Is this reprehensible?) …

We’re given a prize! … For of everyone there,

Those chaps were the most bloody sensible!

After drinks, with The Heeler a few sallied forth

To start the Club pokies a-bleeding.

A defeat quite complete set our crowd on its seat,

And our dough got one hell of a kneading.

But never mind, folks! – To Dubbo next day,

By way of Cobar and Wilcannia.

At the long journey’s end – a first class motel,

A warm shower, a cold beer … Rule Brittania!

Presentations were made by Ted to us all.

(Barry distributed prizes).

Weddings and birthdays were suitably marked

With cakes of all shapes and sizes.

We made presentations to Barry and Ted

Who’d done such a wonderful job.

Many were those who expressed the good will

Of the guys and the gals in our Mob.

Happy we’ve met, most happily been

Together o’er half of our land.

Much laughter we’ve shared and many sights seen,

From the south to the Timor Sea strand.

Advance, then Australia so beauteous and wide,

Source of our deep inspiration;

Home of our people from so many lands –

But one indivisible Nation. 


Poetry2 Pt2 My Way Tour – Darwin

As the trip speeds up and we reach the Kingdoms of the Cattle Barons, the rhythm of the verse alters and breaks into a canter.

A barbeque lunch at McKinlay’s Bush Pub

Was eaten with happy enjoyment.

And numerous flies partook of the feast

Because of their skilful deployment.

We kept them at bay as best we could

With the famous Australian Wave

And sometimes we swatted them dead on the plate

Just to teach those flies how to behave.

After the meal, a young lady in red

Pranced happily into the street.

A huge bull stood there with massive great horns,

Munching grass satisfyingly sweet.

She waved her red jacket right under his nose,

Then turned with expression superior.

But Ted, who was filming this all for TV,

Cried: “Watch out for the bull! Your posterior!”

The lady in red then quite lost her head,

Gave a scream and bolted like lightning.

The bull went on munching, while Ted, cam’ra crunching,

With a grin filmed this drama most frightening.

He’d made it all up – The bull hadn’t moved,

Just stood there all quiet and serene.

But the lady in red stamped her foot as she said:

“I’ll kill Ted!… Or my name’s … not Irene!”

That Friday in Winton the drovers played up.

They were quite well behaved, though, at first.

They came into town and invaded the pubs

Bringing with them insatiable thirst.

The blues mostly started at chucking out time

When the publicans turned off the grog,

They stoushed in the pubs, then they stoushed in the streets,

A frightable, stoushable mob.

The sheilas joined in, trading punches with glee.

They gave and received much contusion.

These cowboys were stoushing all over the street.

God! What an awful confusion!

The cop cars arrived and they turned up their lights,

But the cops didn’t join in the blue.

They smoked cigarettes while the stockmen got decked.

Then they drove off saying quietly, “Hooroo!”

The stockmen and gals at last settled down,

Battered and bruised and well worn.

They had cartons of tinnies they’d brought from the pubs,

So they grogged on and grogged on til dawn.

Then stockmen and dogs with their sheilas and all –

  • (The sheilas were sometimes delectable) –

Drove back to the bush to do some more work,

Leaving Winton once more quite respectable.

And northward, still northward our “My Way” Mob went,

Each day we became a bit wiser:

Saw emus and ant hills, the parched thirsty land.

Then – oasis! The town of Mount Isa!

The Mount Isa Mine yields up fabulous wealth,

Namely silver, zinc, copper and lead.

Isolation is conquered, the wilderness tamed.

And there’s civilisation instead.

The Railways of Queensland are keen on this mine:

The charges it paid for it’s freight

Were sixty three million last calendar year –

A sweet little cop for the State.

When the star spangled velvet soft cloak of the dusk

Thickens – gentle and slow – into night,

Then over the township the mine buildings watch,

Bejewelled with a silvery light.

Our old mate Hill Ted found under his bed

Words of many a popular song.

In our motel at Isa, in a way to surprise ya,

We yodelled and carolled along.

So everyone’s happy – Success to the trip,

Good on you, Teddy old son.

Congratulations from all of our mob

On a job that is very well done.


At the Homestead of Springvale we had a good night:

The guests were all Fourex beer slurping.

A talent quest held their attention despite 

A great deal of belching and burping.

Four of our “My Way” mob entered the quest:

It was Ted Hill who held high our banner.

He sang “bye-bye Blackbird” and took out a prize

In his custom’ry debonair manner.

At the end of a quest a gal wandered home,

Turned the doorknob and switched on the lights.

The man on the bed she gave scarcely a glance.

(One avoids nasty masculine sights).

She sank on the bed… The husband sat up.

“Move closer dear…Room I’ve got plenty.”

“My Gawd,” screamed the lass. “I’m in Room Number One!

I should have been in One and Twenty!”

The man then yelled out: “By cripes! Who’s this?

I thought that… that… you were my wife!

Quick – Buzz off for Pete’s sake – Or else I shall be

Up to my eyeballs in strife!”

Another young lady of sixty and five

Hung her knickers upon the verandah.

In the night they would dry…But Ted Hill, very spry,

In the early morn took a quick gander.

He grabbed his equipment and then filmed the lot,

Made the knickers a picture enchanting.

Those knickers a major attraction will be

On the tape of our Mob’s gallivanting.

At Springs Mataranka that self same young gal

Lost her top – “In the change room,” she said.

Her hubby had also lost track of his trunks.

Just what cooks in that old dressing shed?

“Tis said these warm springs have curative powers,

And this claim is most probably right.

Certain it is that at the motel

The bed springs were creaking that night.

And if some good persons should have a few doubts…

… Misgivings…or even concerns…

By hell, we are going to use it up now,

And leave nothing at all for the worms!

So onwards to Darwin with Coach Captain Baz

At the wheel with all cylinders sparking.

Baz drives very skilfully – quiet and polite –

No screaming, no bawling, no barking.

Of a sudden before us the blue sky was grey,

Then came smoke clouds, thick, swirling and black.

We found we were running a gauntlet of flame.

Should we stop? Is there time to turn back?

But Barry drove on through the furnace-hot fire

Til the coach was once more in the clear.

Everyone cheered, and Mavis proclaimed:

“I SWEAR I’ll buy Barry a beer!”

In Darwin just after (with Ted’s helpful hand)

We went to the gleaming casino.

Bright pokies and card games greeted us there,

And something that people call “Keno.”

We stayed there two hours and most dropped a few bob:

Coin is MADE round to GO round, we know.

But Vic came out smiling because he had beaten

The pokies … was rolling in dough.

Our folks hand-fed fish at the edge of the sea

With bread, which the fish suck and eat.

While Ted filmed all this, locals grinned as they watched,

Whisp’ring “Bottoms up! Ooh! What a treat!”

A catamaran took us out the next day

O’er the harbour so blue and so shining.

On the tropical isle of Mandorah we stayed

For an hour or so, swimming and dining.

Pretty good tucker is buffalo meat,

And for fish don’t go past barramundi.

So we ate buff and barra this beautiful day,

(Which is Darwin’s main meal on a Sunday!)

Darwin’s a city most fair, there’s no doubt.

Were we younger in tones quite stentorian,

We’d say: “Let’s pack up mate and bugger the South.

Let’s go north and become… Territorian!”


Darwin is booming. The pride of the North

Is up and developing fast.

Cyclone Tracy is gone. Modern buildings abound.

This NEW Darwin city will last.

Many in Darwin have never been south

To the site which gave birth to the Nation.

Instead they look north to horizons quite new,

With confidence, strength, jubilation.

Sydney and Melbourne are foreign to them –

Their fleshpots they calmly ignore.

Yet people in Darwin are thin on the ground

Who’ve not seen at least Singapore.

At Darwin the tides rise and fall many feet.

Crocodiles … Sea Wasps … abound.

Quite natural it is that with such nasty things

There are very few swimmers around.

But when they say crocs waddle up the main street,

Be sure they are having a shot …

Unless your informant has been on the Bundy …

… In which case his brains gone to pot.

At the “Buffalo Shop” Mavis won some dried meat

Which will pregnancy stop – That’s a fact!

You take it NOT AFTER … and NOT YET BEFORE …

But INSTEAD of committing the act!

So farewell to Darwin – we now travel south:

Our schedule will not let us tarry.

All aboard, boys and girls, and move down the aisle.

Put the hoof on the gas, Captain Barry.

When at Springvale we stopped, bathrooms so small we found

That we really could not turn about.

We asked Mavis Senior: :How do you wash?”

She said: “Simple! Head first and arse out!”

On Ted’s shirt young Bev a large button was sewing.

(This is true because everyone’s seen ‘em).

Ted gave a loud squawk, said: “I think you have sewn

The button on my duodenum.”

The clean streets of Katherine come into view

South of Darwin. (Springvale’s down the street).

A further day’s drive down the bitumen, then …

You’ll find yourselves in Tennant Creek.

The manager of our motel at this town

Dashed around at a furious pace.

He was also the chef and, one would have thought,

Was engaged in some sort of race.

That night in the bar he produced a guitar,

Sang love songs in German and Russian.

His fine Russian eyes charmed the girls with their size.

… They were simpering, smiling and blushin’.