ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Just trying to contribute Mausey.......please don't put me in the corner for 'recycling'....

...
What's really scary about this poem, apart from my being mentally disturbed enough to write it, is that I could recite it upon it's completion. (Don't tell my therapist.)

‘PICKLED’ © 1994 Glenny Palmer

In the shop this jar of pickles sent my taste buds into tickles
at the thought of pickle prickles on my tongue;
the mustard & zucchini made me dribble just a weeny bit,
for teeny green zucchini pieces, yum!

Now I wasn’t born a meanie, but the salesman when I seen he asked
a price so lean, my beanie left my head;
by golly in our folly me ‘n Molly grabbed a trolley
and like Wallys with the fickle pickles fled.

We had pickles in our jumpers, in the boot & on the bumpers
and in numbers more than dumpers we had puffed;
our heads were feeling reeling wheeling pickles to the ceiling
and in kneeling dealing pickles, we were stuffed.

So we had some light refreshment & applauded our investment
and considered our ingestment of the paste,
when Granny wandered through & said, ‘Ive got some news for you
and that’s repent at leisure when you buy in haste!’

We pondered on her meaning, seeming deeming caution streaming
from her knowledge; she was teeming with disdain,
when Grandad sidled by & said,’You’ll try until you die to pry
those pickle lids that Granny twists in vain.’

With blood drained from my face & heart a-race I then retraced my pace
to Granny’s place to chase her gracious aid,
‘Granny tell me quick the trick of how to flick the lids & lick
the pickles,’ere I’m sick with worry made.’

Granny shook her head with dread & led me to the bed & said,
‘I wed your Grandad fifty years ago;’
she lifted up the cover, ‘neath the bed I then discovered
how her love o’ pickles only brought her woe.

For lined up near the potty was a row of old & spotty pickles;
dotty Aunty Lottie’s wedding gift,
‘For fifty flamin’ years I’ve been in tears & some arrears
for I fear these bloody lids will never shift!’

Now you may sit & gloat while me ‘n Moll cut both our throats
and vote those pickles we did tote to disappear,
the answer’s in our heads, we’ll buy two whoppin’ King size beds
& hope the blighters last for over fifty years.’

What did you recycle the pickles or the lids? Don't recall having seen this one before

That is pretty scary to think you could remember it and then recite it. but my old Dad always used to say small things amuse small minds and pickles are pretty small

How lovely to have you come and join in when I know you are run off your feet lovey xx

Cheers

Maureen

Hellooo Maureen. In the words of the Royal Bris MND nurse, croc has had a 'miraculous resurrection' (since he's been on a morphine drip) & has progressed from not even being to swallow jelly very well to absolutely wolfing down the brekkies I take to hospital for him....poached fish, egg, tomatoe & toast!! He's up & down, but out of the awful crisis last Wednesday.....so....I get to sleep at home now instead of the recliner beside his bed, which is a huge help....& periodically gives me some time to have a quick peek in here to see what all you mad buggers are up to.

'Pickled' is an old performance piece of mine....it comes in very handy when I remember to use it. Glad you enjoyed love........
xx