Whittlin’ our life away

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Whittlin

See me and me cousins – old Daryl and Bede,

We sat on the porch at the front of our home,

We used to laze ‘round, have a drink and a feed,

Coz we had to make sure them cows didn’t roam.

 

Some say folk in the sticks have so little to do,

They say we have plenty of time on our hands,

But now we are part of the active crew few,

Coz for whittlin’ we are the biggest of fans.

 

We started to whittle the odd gum tree stick,

Carvin’ them sticks into nothin’ much at all,

But then after a while we gave sticks the big flick,

Coz there weren’t any more on the trees to fall.

 

We then took to whittlin’ all the wood that we found

(I know you must think this is pretty outrageous),

And all that was left were some chips on the ground,

As whittlin’ for us was becomin’ highly contagious!

 

So we called for whittlin’ help from all of our relos,

(There are lots, as not much happens in them hills),

Whittlin’ was now a big job for gals and the fellows,

Coz we were sellin’ more chips than them log cuttin’ mills.

 

Now as we’re all whittlin’, I gets to do some thinkin’,

Started to make up a tune for all of us to know,

A song ‘bout whittlin’ that would get us all a hootin’,

Let’s call it: ‘From Big Things, Little Things Grow’!

 

And thought all big words could do with a whittle,

Cut them down to size, get rid of the word pith,

It would make them word books be ever so little,

For doin’ this craft, they’ll call us a ‘wordsmith’!

 

Back from my thoughts to our whittlin’ adventure,

There’s not much wood left as you look around,

Gone are fences, the house door and its wood floor,

And there’s none of them trees still growin’ on the ground.

 

Hey, we might of overdone the extent of our wood work,

May be we couldn’t see ‘the forest for the trees’,

But we’ve just heard some news that made us all smirk:

There are lots of big trees in Brazil that are free!

 

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My Mullet

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Mullet

(Author’s note: To be sung to that classic ‘Achy Breaky Heart’)

 

Don’t shave my mullet, my lovely flowin’ mullet,

Just watch it swayin’ in the breeze,

And if you shave my mullet, my lovely flowin’ mullet,

I’ll fall down cryin’ on my knees.

 

You can stand and bellow that I’m not a modern fellow,

That my hair is shorter at the side,

But lookin’ at my mane that’s givin’ me my fame,

There’s no need to make it go and hide.

 

Now you can trash my trailer, yell it from a loud hailer,

Laugh and joke at my retro look,

But Billy Ray perfected it, why are you rejectin’ it?

I’m proud of it and will not be a sook.

 

I can say it’s fair that the girls just love my hair,

They stroke and fondle it like a cat,

But there’s an older dame who really adores my mane,

It’s aunt Raelene with her ciggy and her tat.

 

So you can look like new and grow a mullet too,

There are styles that never ever fail,

Now there‘s one with a perm, with bleach to make it firm,

Why not that trendy ratty tail?

 

Don’t sneer at my mullet, my lovely flowing mullet,

It’s the greatest hair-do by a mile,

And if you sneer at my mullet, my lovely flowing mullet,

It might soon come back into style!

Trump: A Sonnet

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Capture 3

I’ve got one hand on the button,

The other hand on my heart,

For fame, I am such a glutton,

But trust me, I’m making a start.

 

Anyone annoying, I’ll surely defeat,

For me you’ll continue to be rootin’,

Just follow me, my friends, as I tweet

(I like bootscootin’ with Vladimir Putin).

 

And to those who think I am crazy,

Remember I’m building a wall, so tall,

We’ll be great again, not anymore hazy,

You all voted for me to stop the fall.

 

Back to the button, if they raise my ire,

All I can say to them is: You’re fired!

 

 

 

The Tour

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  1. The Welcome

“Namaste, welcome to our wonderful land,

Esteemed guests, so honoured to meet you,

For everything I will be your helping hand,

Our Timeless Horizons, it is so very new.”

 

Our guide then asked where we heard of it,

‘Timeless Horizons’ not a name before met,

The price was good, seemed the perfect fit,

We all agreed, we’d found it on the internet.

 

Sunil, the tour guide, had the blackest of hair,

Tall, chocolate skin, with the whitest of teeth,

Grooming immaculate showing greatest of care,

This most striking man we felt so far beneath.

 

We all huddled in a small Delhi hotel room,

All of us Americans, bar the lone Englishman,

India was so foreign we could be on the moon,

But we all looked forward to this exotic land.

 

Getting from the airport, the traffic too scary,

Their disregard for lanes, and constant beeping,

Only for languid cows they seemed to be wary,

So many close calls had some of us weeping.

 

  1. Old Delhi

“Watch out,” we all cried at our fellow tourist

As a local urchin reached deep into her bag,

Wrenching it away, she displayed her big fist,

And the boy scampered off to find the next bag.

 

We had travelled through the historic Delhi city,

With a people mass few of us had ever seen,

The seething millions, some wanted to take pity,

Others wanted to take photos, was this being mean?

 

A naked man walked through the crowded street,

His penis swaying like an elephant’s trunk,

Hog’s heads on the pavement, would they eat?

Two eunuchs skulked around appearing to be drunk.

 

“My friends this shows our wonderful culture,”

Sunil commented as we disembarked the coach,

Overhead wheeled many a ravenous vulture,

Beady eyes decided what food they would poach.

 

At a mosque it happened the pick-pocket incident,

And then two of our party were late to our bus,

Where could they be? Anger we started to vent,

In time they returned saying “What was the fuss?”

 

  1. Agra

“How ya goin’? My name is Baz and this is Shaz,

And we are Aussies, from the Land Down Under,

And these are our mates called Johnno and Caz,

We’re on your tour, there was a booking blunder.”

 

We all looked stunned at the newcomer four,

Loud, brash, young, with accents so different,

So how could our tour cater for any more?

They’d be difficult to accept, we were diffident.

 

“Namaste,” Sunil said, but we looked dismayed,

“These people will join us, so sorry for the error,”

We grudgingly said hello, introductions were made,

To our very close-knit group they felt like terror.

 

To worsen matters we were struggling with fitness,

We all had ‘Delhi Belly’, even after Sunil’s warning,

With the newcomers this added to our tour sickness,

Stops had to be made for all even by mid-morning.

 

But the Taj Mahal distracted us, as we were in awe,

The majestic temple, one of the world’s great wonders,

We posed for a tour photo, including the new four,

For a moment we forgot all Timeless Horizons’ blunders.

 

  1. Rajasthan breakdown

We sidestepped the hawkers in the fort at Jaipur,

Saw women carrying loads that made us all wince,

We took photos of locals, they were so very poor!

The sun beating down did not make them flinch.

 

The only thing well fed were those drowsy old cows,

They dozily drifted across the very busy roads,

We drove through the desert for hours and hours,

As locals went through life in their sweaty abodes.

 

The Aussie four they were becoming oh so difficult,

They sat in other’s seats, no respect for routine,

What were they saying? Were they all in a cult?

They yelled, cracked jokes, causing a big scene.

 

And to make matters worse in Ranthambore,

As we were on safari, it was so very hot,

Just as we were photographing a tiger’s great roar,

The four jumped up and ruined our shot.

 

Along the road life it could not get much meaner,

The coach broke down, was it made in China?

Stopping at some place offering ‘Lunch & Deener’,

It was ironically named: ‘The Lucky Diner’.

 

  1. The Final Straw

Then the coach eventually started, AC kicked in,

Sunil assured us, “From now it all will be right,”

So persuasive, our worries appeared in the bin,

Plain sailing for the tour must surely be in sight.

 

Then it happened, in some run-down small town,

An incident to make the tour end abruptly there,

A shock to our system that made us all frown,

A worry so bad to put some grey in our hair.

 

As a cyclist road out, our sleepiness it ceased,

The driver swerved, we all exclaimed, “Wow!”

As our coach ploughed into the well-fed beast,

Several of us yelled “Oh no!”, and “Holy Cow!”

 

  1. Epilogue

“Oh Harry, ‘Tour Disasters 1’ it rated so well,”

“Good to hear Art, and the network will do 2,

We put that group through the worst of hell,

They didn’t have an idea that all was not true.”

 

“See some of their issues we certainly orchestrated:

The Aussie intruders, they threatened their order,

But we didn’t do the pick-pocket, their tour was fated,

Delhi Belly played a big part like a foreign marauder.”

 

“And the slick Sunil is an actor from Bollywood,

What’s his stage name? I think it is Sunny Roy,

Next time, we will get a big name from Hollywood,

An actor more out there, Sunny was a little coy.”

 

“The company ‘Timeless Horizons’, it was a big fake,

We’ll have to think up a new name, that one’s used,

And we’ll need a new story line to seal their fate,

And we also have some new passengers to choose.”

 

“But the tour ending it certainly was not scripted,

The coach was supposed to swerve, miss the rider,

When the driver hit the cow, that wasn’t pictured,

He wouldn’t go on, thought the road was wider.”

 

“Even though we had to cut the very last episode,

Our executives, well they had a very good feel,

Though there was a dead cow lying on the road,

The ratings were so high, it was all so very real.”

 

Run Faster, Master

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2016 JP Morgan CC

We’re off in this race for the Masters –

‘Masters’ sounds dignified, read old;

Which of these codgers will run fastest?

There’s some ‘gun’ in the field I’m told.

 

We’ve lined up at the start with head bands,

Dicky knees, arthritis and that condition;

We’ve done our stretches and flexed hands,

Like a Richard Simmons’ video rendition.

 

Now loping along at no fast rate,

Like slow mo in that Chariots flick;

We’re building up a sideways gait –

The winner is so hard to pick.

 

Over there, that guy is the Prancer:

Lifts his legs like a hackney horse;

He should become a ballet dancer –

I wonder if he’ll finish the course.

 

And right next to me is the Shuffler –

Thought he was that old Cliffy Young;

Sounds like he needs a new muffler –

If he wins I’ll be biting my tongue.

 

And just up in front is the Treadmill:

So adept at running on the spot;

Heard he’s been taking a blue pill

To have a long stay in the cot.

 

Oh, I’ve lapsed into a runner’s daze;

Dream of getting physical with Olivia!

Her head band and lycra still amaze –

Why is that look so destined for trivia?

 

Now a flashback to my running start:

My mother felt I was taking it too far;

Thought running would enlarge my heart –

But Phar Lap with a big heart was a star?

 

Awake; ‘the gun’ fires away from the field –

Wonder how he’s got into great shape?

He’s shown the rest a clean pair of heels

As he sprints through the finishing tape.

 

And the rest of us amble to the line,

Puffing, wheezing, finding our breath;

Good news: no one keeled over this time,

As we’re running away from our death.

 

Real Life

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I’ve climbed the highest mountain,

Dived down in the deepest sea,

Run with bulls around a fountain,

Swung like Tarzan from a tree.

 

I’ve jammed with Bono and Bieber,

Done recitals of Liszt and Mozart,

Gave sermons to many a believer,

Like Picasso, painted new age art.

 

I’ve done the big stunts of Kneivel,

Starred in many a Broadway show,

Fought in the UFC some call evil,

Won the grand slam twice in a row.

 

So take it from me this is all true

As I’ve lived it all through YouTube.