ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Jobs That You Do...

Stephen Whiteside 02.02.2012

There are jobs that you do for the money.
There are jobs that you do for the love.
There are jobs that you do for who knows what,
And those for Heaven above.

One day I will build me a dinghy.
I'll set myself off in the blue
With a billowing sail and a bucket to bail
And a star that is honest and true.

I'll whistle a tune and be happy,
While smiling from right to left ear,
With head like a sound navigator,
And heart like an old buccaneer.

Blow me a kiss on departure.
I'll cheerfully blow it right back,
As I bounce through the surf on my own native turf,
And through the bright white-caps I tack.

I'll wear a felt cap that is tilted.
I'll give you a good-natured wink.
I'll go on my way while defying the spray.
That paints a nice scene, don't you think?

Well, this ain't a job for the money.
It might be an errand for love,
But if I return with a lesson to learn,
Then give me a jolly good shove!

G'day Stephen,

Well I think there's one thing you've forgotten
it's because it's your very first sail
and you'll need it, for sure and for certain
when you're sick, you'll be needing a pail.

Some folk get seasick. Some don't. The scientists of NASA say it depends on how good your distance vision is. The better you see a long way off, the more likely that you will suffer nausea. I've always been short sighted, I don't get sick. On the other hand, my husband, who can see a fox at 1000 paces, in the dark, gets terribly ill. He heaves til his toenails are tickling his tonsils poor dear.

suggested extra stanza:

But if ever a poet is wanted
then call me on back from the sea
and I'll fashion a ballad or sonnet
for Stephen of Whiteside I be.



Mal

Very nice Stephen.

Here's mine...

I could go down to the sea;
go down to the sea in a ship.
I'd like to enjoy some cruising,
if only I didn't get sick.

My face gets a ghastly blanch,
my last meal is spouted forth.
And this effect happens aboard
the boat while it's still at the wharf.

I've taken a patent pill
to quell my vertiginous spell.
But when the horizen gyrates,
the pill is expelled to the swell.

Foray on the ocean wave;
a jaunt on the heaving sea.
While you fancy things all nautical;
feel free to go without me.

Well, the bailing bucket can be used for other things, too.

Thanks, Mal.

Ha Ha Ho ho hee hee I love this sh...stuff.

Laughing Mal the Oldfart

Neville...

If you can't hold a pill, and you're still feeling queer,
There's neat little patches to place by your ear.

Thanks Stephen. I'll remember that.

I enjoyed your little rollicking poem.

And if the ear one's don't work well never you fear
They have some other nice one's you stick in your ( Mouth )






Bob

You mob are a bunch of cards - truly Great poems Stephen and Neville and some nice ad libbing on the side