Treasure Chests

We all have too many things I've found
And there's so much stuff to carry around.
Even when there's nothing new to indulge
Our handbags are full and our wallets bulge.

And if we are out, as we usually are,
We transfer some of the junk to our car.
Most of us try to keep the front neat
And toss everything else in the back seat.

But it's the everyday things that cause a fuss
And create a storage problem for us -
Things like our change and the food store docket
That end up in a bag or deep in our pocket.

We don't have as many pockets as men
And always have more to cart round than them
However we do have  a certain leverage -
We can always drop things into our cleavage

You can't hide even a coin in our flat chested sisters
Or they look padded, uneven or lumpy or twisted.
It either shows as a tiny bump, flat and round
Or it falls straight through and onto the ground.

But bosomy women like Maria and me
Have storage that's easy to access and see.
We might curse our boobs, and the size that they are
But there's always a little more space in our bra.

The pirate kings when they find their treasure
Have been known to dance and sing with pleasure.
They dig up their swords, their jewels and gold plates
And divide them up with their crew and shipmates.

But Maria and I and our well-endowed friends
Have treasures to spare when each day ends
When we undo our bras and toss them aside
There is nothing to support and nothing to hide.

There's an avalanche of treasure, a whole day's horde
And it falls to the floor as our daily reward -
Gold coins and silver, recipes, phone numbers and more
Pens and pencils, keys, nail files and paper clips galore.

While our little A-cup sisters don't have a place to hide
They would be amazed what we can conceal inside.
A pocket knife, a crochet hook, a chocolate bar or two
And no one looking at us would have ever had a clue.

But although our values are more important by far
Our boobs are part, a big part, of who we are.
When other folk just see some great big breasts.
We thank the Lord often for our treasure chests.


Maria is our convoy leader as we head for Uluru and Alice Springs, She has facilitated a group of women who are enjoying each other's company, are looking out for each other, and are rapidly becoming good friends as we travel over 2000km in our various vehicles.

Let Me Out

Please, please let me out of here
The voice was faint but clear.
Please, if you can hear me
Just come and rescue me..

I was stopped in a quiet little park
There is rarely much noise after dark.
I am usually alone and don't think too much
About others who might be camping near us.

But what was the voice I heard so well?
Was there a message for me to tell?
It must have been coming from deep inside
Reminding me of things I'd tried to hide.

Was it the scribe who kept track of the years
And recorded my dreams and my fears
Reminding me that another decade had passed
And opportunities were disappearing fast?

Was it the voice of my conscience saying
That I'd got careless about church and praying                
And if I wanted to secure my place in the sky
There were some things that I should try?

Was it the little fat girl hidden inside
Still counting the fads and diets I'd tried,
Telling me that nobody else gave a damn
So relax and enjoy the person I am?

The questions still came thick and fast.
I needed to get a solution at last.
I'd get out and walk around for a bit
To let the cold air clear my head of it.

But as I stepped out into the dark
The quiet words now came loud and stark.
In the hope that the questions would begin to still
I used the words of Samuel: Lord what is your will?

Can't you hear me? Can't you see that I'm stuck
While you're sprouting all that religious stuff.
The child lock is on and I can't open the door
I've spent all night here on the floor.

The dog's been sick and the smell is rotten
If there's a spare key I have forgotten.
So please, pretty please, let me out if you can.
I've lost my enthusiasm for this new van.

Thanks to Lorraine (and her big dog Mena) who shared a journey in her new van.

Sun and Rain

We're so lucky to live in this country
Where the sun shines so bright and hot.
Don't you love the life that we live
And all the freedom we've got?

Why waste resources and money
On old fashioned types of power
With our solar panels on your roof
You'll never pay for a hot shower.

You'll save a fortune on power bills
And be doing your bit for the earth
You'll be leading the global reform
To show what our planet is worth.

What do you mean you don't have a roof?
What do you do when it rains?
I put up my trusty umbrella
And paddle and splash in the drains.

Thanks Vonnie for the inspiration.

Navigator Extraordinaire

We hired a car in Darwin
To drive south to Uluru.
If you're behind the wheel, said Jan
I'll navigate for you.

I'm very good on the east coast.
I know north is where I'll be
If the mountains are on my left hand
And on my right is the sea.

I'm not so sure about the desert
Because everything's so flat
Without the sea and the mountains
And other landmarks like that.

I suppose I could look at the sun
And see where it is in the sky.
As long as it's not midday,
I can check where the shadows lie.

Once we're sure we've got our bearings
And we know we're going the right way
I will be the ideal navigator
For the rest of the travelling day.

But after we stop for the night
I have a big decision to make.
When we get back to the highway
Is it a left or right turn we take?

So you might have to drive and check
Till we find a sign that will say
Adelaide or Alice or Uluru 
And I'll take over for the rest of the day.


Thanks Jan, I could hardly have done it without you.