ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

In answer to Thomas E. Spencer (although a few light years too late)


HOW I TOPPED McDOUGAL’S SCORE

A peaceful spot is Piper’s Flat, the folks that live around
Keep themselves by keeping sheep, and tearing up the ground
Environmental vandals! They cause me trepidation
By tearing up the ground, they’re causing soil degradation

And as a true blue Greenie, I don’t like this goin’ ‘orn
Thus, I decided to object and Protest on their Town Hall Lawn
So I went to Piper’s Flat to see those folks that live around
And keep themselves by keeping sheep and tearing up the ground

I had a big sign saying ‘MONGRELS’ ,nailed to a picket
When the mayor called out, “Let’s settle this with a game of Cricket?”
“ I’M KING OF CRICKET!”, I yelled back, “so don’t you sound your bugle!”
“You don’t scare us!,” replied the Mayor,” for we have got McDougal!”

That name, ‘McDougal’ rang a bell from some Australian poem
Then the Mayor said, “And it’s local rules, you must play on your own.
But a sporting chance we’ll give you, just choose any pitch around.”
I said “I want one where you don’t keep sheep or ain’t torn up the ground!

“And if I win - then you must make these folks that live around
Find other ways to keep themselves than digging up the ground”
“A deal!” the Mayor said, laughing, “but when we whip your rear
You must pack your Greenie crap and nick off out of here!”

Thus dawned the dreaded cricket match and I felt like a drongo
As everyone cheered Piper’s Flat, (‘cept a few blokes from Molongo)
But no one knew that as a bowler I could let ‘em rip
My follow through was so fast, I’d take catches at first slip!

I knocked them over one by one, the ball ne’re touched the bat
I had them 9 for 52, that team from Piper’s flat
When the cry went up “McDOUGAL!!” as a Scotsman took the crease
With his old dog, Pincher, by his side, freely off his leash

His dog just sat there quietly, which rattled my suspicion
So as I raced in fast to bowl, I made a quick decision
I bowled a full toss right out wide, hit his old dog’s head
“Acch!!! I’m buggered!!” cried McDougal , as Pincer fell down dead

I went straight through his guard next ball and messed his stumps around
McDougal , with his dead dog, walked off sadly from the ground
“All out for 53, “ I screamed, “54 to win!
“Bring your finest bowlers on,” I yelled, “looks like I’m in”

Tim Brady sent a ‘wobbler’ in, a slow, flat easy one
I carved It like Don Bradman, and I then began to run
It rolled on out to deep third man, it rolled and rolled and rolled
To where they’d just torn up the ground, and fell into a hole


The fielders, they just stood around and wondered what to do
“Go get some rope!” yelled Brady, “and digging equipment too!”
And so the team from Piper’s flat, each player, one and all
Set about their arduous task of trying to find the ball

They absailed down the crater, trying to get the cricket ball
While I just kept on running, “Ten runs!” was the call
Their vain attempts invaded by a wandering flock of sheep
They persevered to get that ball, a half a mile deep

I yelled “You folks from Piper’s Flat and those that live around
And keep yourselves by keeping sheep and tearing up the ground
You’re getting all your just deserts, I hope you suffer plenty!
Environmental Bastards!” , The scorer called out “Twenty!”

They couldn’t reach that ball that fell a half a mile down
They had shovels, forks and backhoes, all tearing up the ground
They were white and in a panic and cried, “You’re playing dirty!”
“....Couldn’t give a stuff!” I yelled, the scorer yelled out “Thirty!”

They stuffed the hole with dynamite, to try to blast it free
But succeeded just in blowing half their team to buggery!
An old lady in the crowd cried out, “You’re very, very naughty!”
“Shut your wrinkled gob!”, I yelled, the scorer yelled out “Forty!’

The Piper’s Flat folk cursed their luck, in obscene dialogue
They cursed the sheep, they cursed the ground, and cursed McDougal’s Dog
And then the scorer bellowed out, “You needn’t dig no more
This bloke’s just run his 54th and topped McDougal’s Score!!”

The Molongo blokes went wild, and filled me full of grog
Chaired me past the crowd and poor McDougal with his dog
Thus the townsfolk kept their promise and stopped tearing up the ground
Ate their sheep and planted lots of Gum Trees all around

So now those folks from Piper’s Flat and all of their relations
Keep themselves by selling drugs and robbing Petrol Stations
But I’ve done the Earth a service, like has ne’re been done before
When I beat that team from Piper’s Flat and topped McDougal’s score!!!

©Neil McArthur 2011

and how lucky that you had Heather there to tell you you were naughty No hang on Heather hasn't got a wrinkled gob - might have been her Gran...Heather must have learnt her 'naughty' speech from someone.

As in all things one must be careful to not throw the baby out with the bathwater Really enjoyed this although not the bit about the dog

Gee,

it's long.

That's great Keats. Top work.
Well and truly up to top standard in ole rollicking humorous ballad, I reckon .

And I think you have a done excellent work the way you have incorporated the modern theme of environmentalism into the original theme of the country cricket match.

You must have a superman's memory if you can recite that one in your performance.

Eight lines shorter than the original, Zondrae. Not that hard to memorize, it sticks to a pretty simple rhyming scheme with lots of 'hint' rhymes into the following verse. A bit of fun, but I will probably only perform it when the original Macdougal is performed. A lot of the audiences have never heard the original, so the satire would be lost.

G'day Neil

I really enjoyed your new take on "How M'Dougal Topped the Score. It is right up there with the others that you have done of Paterson's poems, "The Colt from Old Regret" (Neil's first CD) and "Clancy's Snowy River Bicycle Christening" (Neil's Latest CD).

Funnily enough, just last night I read a reply poem that Thomas E Spencer wrote to his "How M'Dougal Topped the Score". It was called "The Prerogative of Piper's Flat". It was written on the basis that although Victor Trumper was a record breaker in his time, he had never matched M'Dougal on just one shot.

Regards


John Peel

G'day Peely. Would love to read that one mate. As a keen follower of satire, especially self-satire, I would love to read Spencer's answer to himself. Stay well mate and hope to catch up soon for a chin wag.

Neil

G'day Neil

Managed to find a copy of the text. The words are in the public domain, so I have copied them to here. I look forward to catching up.

Regards


John Peel

The Prerogative of Piper's Flat
by Thomas E Spencer

Given as an encore to "How M'Dougall Topped the Score," at the public reception to Victor Trumper in Sydney Town Hall, 19th December, 1903 —

One evening, just at sundown, I was sitting on a rail,
When up rode big Tim Brady, who had been to fetch the mail.
Taking out a daily newspaper, he handed it to me,
And, pointing to a paragraph, "Just look at this," says he,
"Here's a cove called Victor Trumper, an Australian by birth,
Has been moppin' up the cricket records all around the earth,
Such centuries and aggregates were never known before.
And New South Wales is 'dotty' because Trumper's topped the score."

I says, when I had read it, "Yes, I think I've heard his name,
And, accordin' to the cablegrams, he plays a decent game.
In breaking English records, he's been makin' fame for us.
And I think, in spite of Kipling, that a young man might do wuss;
But before he breaks all records, he has got to wait a bit.
For he hasn't broke M'Dougall's, who scored fifty in a hit.
I ain't the least bit jealous — I don't speak because of that.
But we'll let no bloomin' Trumpers take the cake from Piper's Flat.

"When M'Dougall piled his record up, and knocked Molongo dead.
He didn't play them with his bat, he played them with his head.
If Trumper comes to Piper's Flat he'll find we're not asleep.
For what we had the head to win we'll have the head to keep.
He'll meet with every kindness, he shall have a horse to ride.
But, if he rides the chestnut mare, he'll have to get inside.
She threw Flash Mat, the horse-breaker, and ruined his profile;
And the man will make a record that can ride her half a mile.

"We'll fill him up with ginger wine, and cream, and nice fresh cheese.
And then, if he is fit to go, we'll show him Bowker's bees;
They're awfully fond of strangers, and if Trumper plays at all
After he's done inspecting them, he'll never see the ball.
He'll find the wicket bumpy, and the bowling rather wild.
And, then, we've still got Pincher left, and Pincher ain't no child.
He understands M'Dougall. If his master tells him so
He'll get a grip on Trumper's pants, and never let 'em go.

"When every man is equal, why — then no man will be best.
And every score that's made will be same as all the rest.
In the socialistic language there is no such word as strife,
And the bloke that breaks a record will be put in gaol for life.
Then Trumper's and M'Dougall's fame will not be fame at all,
And perhaps we'll drop our record, just as Pincher dropped the ball.
But until then our record shall remain at Piper's Flat,
We've only one, but you may bet your boots we'll stick to that.

"If Trumper is contented with the records he has got,
And don't come up to Piper's Flat to try to scoop the lot,
Then Brady and M'Dougall, and the men of Piper's Flat
Will wish good luck to Trumper, and they won't forget the hat.
They mean to keep their record, but they all acknowledge worth,
And hail him as the most accomplished cricketer on earth.
Their cheers will make the gum trees shake, they'll pledge him in a bumper.
While breath holds out they'll roar and shout, 'Long life to Victor Trumper.'"

HaHa, love it John! never seen that before! Going straight to the Pool Room, mate.

Thanks

Neil

Keats, this poem demonstrates your respect of the elderly and your love of animals (dogs in particular). A rollicking good laugh. Thoroughly enjoyed it. Expect a performance in my honour at Bundy!!

Maureen what do you mean I have naughty speech? I've been very good the past 24 hours.

Heather