Round Aus Pt1- Taree to Surfer’s Paradise

It’s cold and wet, the rain pours down,

The lawn’s a sea of mud.

The flamin’ cows – so tired they are –

Won’t even chew the cud.

The happy frogs down in the swamp

Are croaking “What a Ripper” 

The farmer’s cold and empty

Like a freshly gutted kipper.

With all this rain just where’s the dough

To pay the mortgage off?

Fair dinkum it would make you pack

Your bags and bugger off. 

This rotten rain, enough it is,

To give a man the pip.

Let’s sling our hook. Let’s do a bunk,

And let the mortgage rip. 

Our bags are packed. We’ve caught the coach,

Got up at dawn betimes.

And now we’re off with Ted and Baz

For warmer, drier climes.

Boys and girls, and chaps and blokes

And all you little bairns,

We’re roving north in Eggins’ coach 

To sunlit, tropic Cairns.

So all ye merry gentlefolk.

Let nothing ye dismay.

We’ll chase the sun and have some fun,

And do it all……..”Myway”.

We’ve had the cold, we’ve had the rain,

We’ve had the rotten weather.

We’re sallying forth and travelling north

Out to the Never-Never.

When we stop we’ll say “Good day”

To snakes, goannas, lizards.

And every night we’ll pour the grog

Straight down our bone dry gizzards.

 And why not,folks? – For people praise

The gentle art of giving.

Let’s give a little to ourselves!

Life’s also made for living.

We picked up Bet at Harrington,

But Ted got into strife.

He’d missed the town right off the tour,

Said Jan, his lady wife.

Near Kempsey, over Worrel Creek,

Ted pointed with a sneer.

“Those blokes are really up a creek.

The pub there has no beer.”

And it’s a fact! Slim Dusty who

Now lives down in the smog,

Amassed his fortune singing of

This pub run out of grog.

Nambucca Heads was where we stopped

To sip our morning tea.

Blue river waters surge to meet

The shimmering, boundless, sea.

Crash Bang McCarthy once lived here.

Car mending was his racket.

From tales I hear I greatly fear

He never made his packet.

Ted Hill knew Crash Bang very well

Before he called it quits.

A tractor tyre he once blew up

Exploded into bits.

Repairing once a fire engine,

Crash Bang fell in the mire;

Took morning tea, came back to see

The engine was on fire.

South Grafton RSL Club was

The venue for our lunch.

Ted said they’d catered often for

The Taree “Myway” Bunch.

But one successful barbecue

Had got so stinking hot

It took the tables, took the Club,

And torched the flamin’ lot!

We therefore crossed the city to

Its second RSL.

This Club did NOT burn down, and we – 

Well, we did pretty well.

When leaving Grafton later on

Irene could not be found.

The pokies had her in their spell.

‘Twas Ted was brought her round.

Murwillumbah we by-passed and

Condong hove into sight.

And when you say that name be sure

Your teeth are fixed in tight.

Speeding north through New South Wales,

(With zero interruption), 

Within a few short hours we reached 

The State of Mass Corruption.

 And if our Baz steps on the gas

So we can get a beer.

Well, drinking time is not a crime –

–Just raise your hats and cheer.

And should a passing cop come up,

Is speeding such a sin?

We’ll slip the cop his fifty bucks,

And everyone chip in!

For that’s the way they organise

Within the Sunshine State.

Don’t moan and growl. Don’t weep and howl.

It’s kismet, chaps. It’s fate.

It’s great that Cec McCaffrey

Has brought his Kath along

The word is (if we’re very good),

She’ll lead us all in song.

Kath did this in New Zealand

While our coach climbed Arthur’s Pass.

We knew if we went o’er the edge

We’d land right on……………….the grass.

Kath cheered us up. But umpteen sheep

Took flight straight up the hill.

They didn’t like the music, see……?

…….(I think they’re running still !)

Har-de-har and Ho-de ho !

Just kidding, sweet Kathleen.

You really are the nicest girl

That we have ever seen.

So dear old Ted, we’re in your hands.

(You’ve never been a failure !)

We leave it up to you and Baz

To show us round Australia.

Poetry2 Pt1 My Way Tour – Toowoomba

“MY  WAY”   TOUR,   JUNE, 1988  –    


Jim Foxon’s  Meanderings.


The worst night of my life I spent ‘

Twas on the eighth of June

‘Twas worse by far than when I went

Upon my honeymoon


The wife was up and down all night.

(It wasn’t what you think).

The waterworks were quite all right.

We’d never had a drink.


Upon that morn at half past five

We had to catch a bus.

So mother stayed awake all night.

What a bloody fuss!


For SHE kept ME awake as well –

Nearly drove me barmy!

Brought back all those awful years

That I’d spent in the army.


And when we got out in the cold

Of morn – stars in the sky!

‘Twas cold enough to freeze ’em off!

Oh my, oh my, oh my!


But when we climbed aboard the bus

So mis-er-ab-le still,

We both thawed out a little bit.

We met a Ted called Hill.


The red-rimmed dawn came up and Ted

Unfurled the Aussie flag.

“Sing loud the National Anthem chaps –

No one’s allowed to lag!”


“Just sing, and don’t salute,” Ted said,

“The bus is rather jerky.

If you stand up and then salute,

You’ll fall head over turkey.”


That night up in Toowoomba

We all sat down to dine.

We’d had a session in the pu

With Fosters, Scotch and wine.


Thus while we exercised the fang,

No one was really stinking.

Yet still and all there’d been a bit

Of fairly serious drinking.


So when the girl who was in charge

Told jokes of love and lust,

We all sat back and held our sides

And laughed out fit to bust.


Toowoomba – Garden City    

Of Aussie’s Sunshine State!

To say it’s merely pretty

Would greatly under-rate.


The neat, attractive gardens

The eye continually meets,

The bright and lovely houses,

The wide and sweeping streets.


Then on to Miles, a well kept town,

With Pioneer Museum. 

Were all such things so well concealed,

Most folk would never see ‘em.


In central Queensland Roma is

Where boab trees abound.

They line its dusty, faded streets,

Misshapen, portly, round.


At Charleville straw hats appeared, 

Fitted by Baz and Ted.

The fitting was a trifle weird,

But each lid found its head.


Yet there’s a price we have to pay

For anti-sun protection.

Our hats are marked with “Tours My-way”

Er…….”Myway Tours.” (Correction).


We saw the Stockman’s Hall of Fame –

Queen Liz was at this spot.

From miles around the people came;

The sun was flamin’ hot!


When she was asked just how she felt

The Queen said, “Well, of course,

My anal pain recalls the taim

When I fell orf my horse!”


In central Queensland towns, you know,

All people far and near

Will only wash in water, but –

They drink the Fourex beer!


In Winton’s pub I said: “Now mate –

Your water’s rather strong.

You pump, I guess, outside the town,

From some old billabong?”


“This water, mate,” says he, “don’t come

From any billabong. 

It comes from DEEP BELOW, and hence –

The bloody awful pong.”


“I must confess,” said I, “that beer

Is better…Even stout.”

“Good-oh,” he said. “I’ll order two!

And don’t forget…Your shout!”


We’re taking off for Darwin now.

Say, just how does that seize ya?

Darwin! – Lovely northern jewel!

The next stop…Indonesia!