Dressed up in his bag of fruit - looking like Fred Astaire

[Maureen K Clifford]

All dressed up in his bag of fruit and looking like Fred Astaire




It had been a long time since he’d seen him - but it seemed like it was yesterday
as soon as he heard that known voice he was grinning and time simply drifted away.
‘Hows my old china’ that booming voice cried ‘are you here on your Pat Malone?
Do you fancy a Germain Greer down at the rubbidy I sure hate drinking alone.
Go and change your Reg Grundies, grab titfer and scarf, I’ve a hankering now for some grub
use your onkaparingas to call up the gang for a Paul Keating down at the pub.

By the way how’s the missus, your trouble and strife? And the Billy kids? Bet they have grown.
How’s your blood blister Jan? Has she got a new man? An apology to her might atone
for my crass rude behaviour last time I was here. That weekend was full of Dalai Lamas
Do you reckon she might fancy me still a bit? I was hopeful and bought new pyjamas.
I’m on the Rock ‘n’ Roll so it’s your Wally Grout, but I’m in town chasing up a job.
But won’t know until Monday and today’s only Sund’y so hope mate you’ll lend me a bob.'

He could tell that nothing had changed over the years, old Tom was as crafty as ever
but a few dollars spent was a small price to pay for the company of this bloke so clever.
His language alone was good for a laugh and he genuinely cared for the old timer
who had spent most of his life in the vast outback, as a ringer and shearer and miner.
For years Tom was married to his sister Jan. She grew tired of the roads he would tread
but always held a place for him in her heart and for him there was always a bed.



Maureen Clifford © 11/11

[Rimeriter]

Another nice bushie tale.

"Thanks" Maureen.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Rimeriter - I think this bloke escaped