ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

THE RACE AGAINST TIME

The thunder boomed like cannon shot as wicked lightning flashed;
a whiff of sulfur tinged the air as through the night he dashed.
But storms could never stop this man; he knew he must get through,
and cursed the many holdups now as his impatience grew.

The rain came down in blinding sheets and blurred the road ahead,
yet if he slowed and got there late he might as well be dead.
So much depended on him now; there was no other way,
he either made it through in time, or live to rue this day.

Back at the camp they prayed for him; he was their only hope,
to get the vital goods they need to help them try and cope.
No matter what the obstacles; no way could he be late
he simply had to be on time, the pub would close at eight.

_______

©T.E. Piggott

Very good Terry.

Thinking there was not enough info to tell what the emergency was Terry but then the punch line sorted all that out.


Someone with a sense of humour akin to my own.


Good one mate.

Bob

Oh NO! Not two of you!

Made me smile Terry... good one!

Gee that must have been in the 'olden days' Terry darn things seem to open all hours now. Good poem - well done

Oh NO! Not two of you!


Now I know you mean that in a most affectionate way H


Bob

The world looking amber to you again Bobbity boo?

she's right mate the grog must get through bewdy mate

bill the old battler

Thanks, Heather.

I wasn't sure where it was going myself for awhile Bob.

Thanks Robyn, glad you got a chuckle out of it.

Thanks Maureen

You've got to get you priorities right Bill.

Cheers Terry