)Working Day Blues… (Apologies to Banjo)
Now I had written him a lengthy text,
complete with smilies on my mobile phone.
I saved the draft then pressed the function ‘send’
and sent it to my good mate ‘Bluey’ Stone.
Then soon the Beatles ring tone sounded loud,
acknowledging my old mate had replied,
it was his wife responding to my call,
she texted that he’d gone fishing with the tide.
My wild erratic visions, now show Blue
gone fishing out on Cooktown’s tidal flow,
with rod and bait and cold beers close at hand,
he listens to his ‘tranny’ radio.
For at the van parks there are friends to greet
when Blue and Del arrive to stay a while,
then share their stories well into the night,
I’m jealous ‘cause their life’s so versatile.
While I sit in my dingy cubicle,
highlighted by the constant flouro’s glow
with customers and endless ringing phone
I’m tired, of this life I’ve come to know.
Instead of fishing rods or campfire nights
I’m stuck here in the traffic and the smog,
where nighttime sees the street gangs and the drunks
and bins are rummaged by some local dogs.
The city folk with pallid faces haunt
as they all rush about in nervous haste,
with eager eyes and greedy way of life,
they cannot stop; they have no time to waste.
I fancy I’d like now to swap with Blue,
go touring with the seasons changing ways,
instead of customers and ringing phones,
the Aussie purple sunsets would amaze.
And though I’m manacled here to my desk
I know it won’t be long ‘til I’m with Blue,
we’ll rendezvous at Blackall’s camping site,
where we’ll go fishing by the old Barcoo.
David J Delaney
22/05/2011 ©
as I said I only threw it together over the weekend, but I definately will re-visit it.