young men's mischief
Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 1:34 pm
Young Men’s Mischief
Out on the Paroo track, about ten miles or so
an old roo he jumped into the door,
and knocked himself out,
So we dressed him in dungarees, just for a joke
Put pants on back to front,
An left his tail hanging, out of the fly .
Now we held him down as we travelled the track,
and my mate he pondered, over the plan of attack.
Now the pub looked a likely place there outback
should our Kanga, a beer wish to try.
The old roo was strong, but we held him tight,
as we carried him into the pub yard that night.
There was no one there, not a soul in sight
but the roo, had the right of reply.
So we turned him loose, to grunt and engage
with the blokes at the bar. He’d a terrible rage
he was sparrin’, and spittin’ an holding centre stage
which we all gleefully did espy.
From the road where we stood, with big grins on our dial
watching the drinkers, run one minute miles
as they left through doors, and windows with style
and the roo cleared the bar for a while
My mate he was solemn, as my shoulder he shook,
and his brown tanned face, had a strange sallow look
For his wallet, was in the roos trousers
So there is a moral, to this story, I tell?.
How that roo he did shout, with his money no doubt
And that old roo from Paroo, is buying beer there as well
Out on the Paroo track, about ten miles or so
an old roo he jumped into the door,
and knocked himself out,
So we dressed him in dungarees, just for a joke
Put pants on back to front,
An left his tail hanging, out of the fly .
Now we held him down as we travelled the track,
and my mate he pondered, over the plan of attack.
Now the pub looked a likely place there outback
should our Kanga, a beer wish to try.
The old roo was strong, but we held him tight,
as we carried him into the pub yard that night.
There was no one there, not a soul in sight
but the roo, had the right of reply.
So we turned him loose, to grunt and engage
with the blokes at the bar. He’d a terrible rage
he was sparrin’, and spittin’ an holding centre stage
which we all gleefully did espy.
From the road where we stood, with big grins on our dial
watching the drinkers, run one minute miles
as they left through doors, and windows with style
and the roo cleared the bar for a while
My mate he was solemn, as my shoulder he shook,
and his brown tanned face, had a strange sallow look
For his wallet, was in the roos trousers
So there is a moral, to this story, I tell?.
How that roo he did shout, with his money no doubt
And that old roo from Paroo, is buying beer there as well
jeans were rather more form fitting just take a look at girls from behind. 