The Cooks Revenge. It was just a harmless little joke, It didnt wound or maim, Though I have to say Ill never try The likes of it again. Intending to jazz up the Cook, I caught a joey roo And threw it in to liven up The Cook upon the loo. The thunder-box had iron walls, That roo just bounced around, And the yells and screams that rent the air Were stomach-splitting sounds. The prank was soon forgotten till I ate some curried stew That the cook had laced with Epsom Salts, In payment for the roo. Well it got my bowels a-boiling, While tasting quite benign, And had me rushing tward the loo In next to nothing time. The pressure of the moment made Me walk a little tight, While I tried to act unhurried just To curb the cooks delight. My legs were twined like rubber-vine My brow was cold and damp My cheeks were gripped by rigor mortis Locked in fear and cramp I could have sworn I felt a seepage, The prelude to a flood, My teeth were clenched in grim resolve, My pores were sweating blood. The dictates of my posture meant A crabbing, shuffling gait And I prayed, with progress slowing That I wouldnt be too late When I finally reached the dunny There were horrors still in store The cook, with wretched humour, Had jammed the bloody door. The neatly driven three inch spikes Skewed in through door and frame Were calculated to inflict More punishment and shame Well I didnt even hesitate, I wouldnt be denied, I put my shoulder to the boards, Relief was just inside. No twisted mind would do me in, Id beat the bugger yet, And I prayed the trickle down my leg Was nothing more than sweat. Before my desperate onslaught, The timber burst apart, To reveal a waiting wooden throne, A sight to warm my heart. But the cooks revenge compounded, It wasnt just or right, The vindictive little vixen , Had screwed the lid down tight. From WESTERING - Western Queensland Bush Verse By Mark Kleinschmidt
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 04:45:21 +0000
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