ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

CHUCKIN' ROCKS
© Frank Daniel Canowindra NSW 2.12.1997

Retaliation was a wicked, evil, sinful sport
When us Catholics went to battle with the likes of Jim McNaught.
He was just a wee bit bigger than the best we had on hand,
It never seemed quite 'evens' taking him on 'man to man'.

The 'Proddies' from the State school made his mob an evil foe,
They’d talk real tough; we’d give 'em lip, and sing out 'have a go!'
Bad names never harmed us though touched feelings often hurt,
While occasional sarcasms ridiculed and brought up dirt.

The more that they insulted, the more we’d answer back.
The more that we cajoled them, the more we had to hack.
When tempers started flarin', fear would put us in our place,
Uncertainties would scare us as we argued face to face.

To and fro-ing with our arguments, our vocabularies waned.
Confirming Sister’s statement that we hadn’t any brains.
Then we resorted to the language that our fathers used to use
Working dogs and drafting sheep. By Hell they could abuse.

But the final innuendo got us fired up and chucking rocks,
When they picked on Hubert Mueller, called him 'little Goldi-locks'.
The temper of our German mate was a fearsome sight for sure,
None could lay a finger on him as he led us into war.

By the handful he could chuck 'em, he was like a gattling gun.
He scattered half the enemy you should have seen them run.
He cursed in foreign language which to us was rather strange,
Though the enemy 'understood' him, and kept well out of range.

We started shouting German words, like 'Fritz' and 'saveloy',
'Dumbkoff' and 'Heil Hitler' adding more strength to our ploy.
Returning enemy fire we advanced upon our foe,
Their scattered ranks diminished as we met them throw for throw.

Some wars would last a weekend, and sometimes after school.
Sour grapes caused more upsets as we argued fool to fool.
And the gravel that we shifted put the council men to shame,
Though it only moved from end to end in Mrs. Jacksons’ lane.

Our cheek was so much stronger when young Hubert led the fight.
He was our secret weapon — our power and our might.
We never feared our enemy when they called him 'Goldilocks'
And we never lost a battle when it came to chuckin' rocks.

Agreed Marty. I can hear you reciting it Frank.

Heather

G/day Frank'
You must have went to the same school as me mate.
In my case we had to catch the bus home from outside the local state school, talk about scary.
Good one Frank.

Cheers Terry

Love it Frank - hope they weren't the expensive fancy nancy ones you buy from Landscaping yards though.

Thanks for the comments.

One day I decided not to go back into class after the lunch break.

During the afternoon I saw one of my Public School cousins walking past on the lane from Turalla Creek.
He was carrying two rainbow trout on a line.
He cast some aspersions about us tykes so I started chuckin' rocks at him and gave him a bit of lip at the same time.
Sister Helen must have seen me through the window and before I knew it she came bowling around the corner of the building, puffing and panting, red-faced and waving her cane.
I thought I was in for it this time. I'd surely cop a sixer.
"I'll teach you to throw stones young fellow" she cried.
Much relieved, I answered "Goodonya Sister, I havent hit him once in ten shots!"

G'day Frank, I remember that you performed this one at Singleton last June.