A tourist sees a kangaroo and says 'how very cute'.
A driver sees the self same one and curses the brute.
We've seen headlights broken, battered panels on the car
We know we can't rely on our reinforced bull bar.
We shouldn't try to drive at dawn as wild life is out then
That's not a problem for me because I don't get up till ten.
The other danger time is dusk and even that is fine.
It's happy hour. I'm already parked and drinking wine.
But I come across a kangaroo who doesn't know the rule
He's on the road at midday and takes me for a fool
Instead of resting in the bush and watching from afar
He's playing Russian Roulette with traffic on the tar.
He looks so quick and graceful with long and powerful hops
Then in the middle of the road the stupid creature stops.
Our country roads are not so good but still I've reached the ton.
I know I'm going to hit him if the bugger doesn't run.
I will him to get moving, not because I care
But you know the damage bill if you hit him fair and square.
You swerve a bit to miss him and he seems to read your mind.
He doesn't even graze you - but wipes out the bloke behind.
Poetry that records and reflects on camping and road travel in Australia and philosophical comments on life in general.
Sunday, 22 November 2015
Friday, 13 November 2015
Solos' Song
TUNE - The Gypsy Rover
We’re friendly
folk and we love to greet
Friends old
and new that we me-ee-et
We spend some
time and we’re on our way
Travelling the nation’s hi-i-igh-ways.
Chorus
Chorus
So
give us freedom and wave us goodbye
Don’t
ask when, where or wh-y
We
pity those who will never know
The
joy of travelling so-o-o-lo.
|
As you see,
we’re a motley crew
Ex-cepting me
and yo-ou
We travel alone
but we’ll share your load
Because we’re
mates on the ro - o- ad
Chorus
It’s not about
family or work or home
It’s all about
where we ro- oam.
It’s where
we’re going and where we’ve been
And every-where
in betw-e- een.
Chorus
Repeat chorus
Goodbye to Wagin
TUNE
- Rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
We’re
saying goodbye to this rally for solos
We’re
saying goodbye to this rally for solos
We’re
saying goodbye to this rally for solos
We’re having a ball, oh Lordy!
Chorus
Chorusm
Solos, camped to the left of us
Solos, camped to the right of us
Solos, camped all around us.
We’re having a ball, oh Lordy
Let’s
give a hand to the organisers
Let’s
give a hand to the organisers
Let’s
give a hand to the organisers
We’re
having a ball, oh Lordy!
Chorus
Let’s
say thanks to the volunteers
Let’s
say thanks to the volunteers
Let’s
say thanks to the volunteers
We’re
having a ball, oh Lordy!
Chorus
Raise
your hand if you’re going to Albany
Raise
your hand if you’re going to Albany
Raise
your hand if you’re going to Albany
We’re
having a ball, oh Lordy!
Chorus
We’ll
see you all next year at Forbes
We’ll
see you all next year at Forbes
We’re
having a ball, oh Lordy!
Chorus
Repeat
Chorus
Monday, 9 November 2015
Gourmets
I love to see the campfires
And watch how people cook
With heavy pot suspended
On a tripod with a hook.
Some even use a recipe
And mix in lots of herbs
It smells like Friday dinner
In houses in the burbs.
Sure I don’t begrudge them
The challenge of their meals
But I’ll stick with quick and easy
And eat my milk and cereals.
Labels:
Australia,
Bush poetry,
camping,
cooking,
solo travel,
travel
Bully Boy
BLAARP! The air horn blasted from at least a k behind –
Nice to get the warning but there’s not much I can do.
The road ahead is single lane with trees close on either
side.
The narrow verge is wet and mucky like pools of filthy glue.
I sit on the speed limit and hold tightly to the wheel
But the monster there behind me is catching up for sure.
BLAARP! He nearly scared the life from my racing heart.
BLAARP! Not a friendly toot but an intimidating roar.
I’m travelling faster than I ever like to do
Way above the limit – but he’s huge with towering load
I watch him bearing down on me, a terrifying sight
I’ m so focused on him, hardly looking at the road
Oops I missed a driveway. I’m too fast to stop
I put my blinkers on to show I’m pulling over
But there’s nowhere to escape this nightmare
A deadly version of the children's game Red Rover
At last I see a gravel pit with space enough to turn
I spin the wheel, with beating heart and nerves all shot to
hell
And leave the road in a spray of mud and stones and fear
I think, now that I’ve survived, I’ll have a tale to tell
One last blast and he thunders past then sits there on the
road
After all that bullying, he slows down to a crawl.
He’s watching me in the mirror and sends a quick salute
A middle-finger greeting that’s understood by all
I edge in there behind him and slow to match his pace
Never game to pass him now he’s made this into a race
I know he’d sit behind me and blast his rotten horn
I lift my head with purpose and hope he can feel my scorn
So I try to look complacent and show I don’t give a damn
But closer, ever closer I slowly forward creep
As I sit there in the roadway trying not to play his game
I summon all my courage and give a small defiant ...BEEP
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