CARAVANNING MAYHEM

We’re as Aussie as a barbecue, fair dinkum as they come,

and we’re crazy ‘bout our footy and we love a Bundy rum.

We’re as true blue as Don Bradman and I’ll wager both our pays

we’re as ridgy didge as vegemite.  No! Mightymight leastways.

We get green and gold malaria at least twice every week

and the truth be known ... we’ve got it now ... right as we flamin’ speak.

When we see our nation’s coat of arms we feel a sense of pride.

Well ... that was until we went outback.  These days we cringe and hide.

We had bought a brand new four-wheel drive and caravan to boot

and we thought we’d tour Australia.  It was bound to be a hoot.

Well we drove through Bourke and Charleville and that old mate is where ...

both those critters on our coat of arms ... attacked us then and there.

We had crossed the bridge at Yo Yo Creek when right there in full view

was a whopping great big kangaroo and old man emu too.

Well they raised our Aussie pride on high ... that’s till they split those chaps

and the emu hit the windscreen and was dumped upon our laps.

It was panic that now overtook this oversized galah,

as he started kicking madly to escape from out the car.

His big beak was pecking firmly at the middle of my groin,

while my manhood stood protected by a pocket full of coin.

The sharp claws were madly thrashing and my wife was not amused

‘cause he lashed out at her torso that was bloodied, cut and bruised

and whatever emus tend to eat and forage through the day

was now spread throughout the vehicle as we fought that deadly fray.

The old emu found the window and with freedom now in sight

that bird shredded the upholstery as he kicked with all his might.

We were covered with its feathers and in one almighty push

he then squeezed on out the window and he headed for the bush.

We were bloodied, bruised and beaten and bewildered and amazed

as we scrambled from our four-wheel drive and still a little dazed.

We were now in need of first aid so we opened our van door

and we climbed inside to find the kit, both bleeding on the floor.

In the meantime unbeknown to us the big ‘roo in despair,

he had clipped our brand new four-wheel drive and hurtled through the air.

When the flying frame of that large beast, which stood near six feet tall,

it had landed in the caravan, through awning, glass and all.

On the table there before us stood this stunned ‘roo, not quite dead,

when the scream from my old lady triggered something in its head.

In an instant he had grabbed me and had lunged out with his feet

and he shredded my new Levis and then made a quick retreat.

He had landed on the double bed and turned to strike again,

but instead his big tail hit me with excruciating pain.

He then latched onto the missus and they grabbed each other’s necks,

then they jumped around together till they both looked flamin’ wrecks.

In that instant I then managed to make for the van’s front door

while the missus she kept screaming, “I can’t take this any more!”

Now the ‘roo he sensed his freedom and both he and my poor wife

spilled outside onto the roadway, where it bolted for its life.

For the moment we just stood there both bewildered by our plight

and I must confess our torsos they were not a pretty sight.

We then sat and drank the rum we had, we needed a stiff drink.

And we headed back for Melbourne where we both sought out a shrink.

We have sold the four wheel-drive and van to pay our flamin’ quack

and we watch the good old tele when we want to go outback.

We have both now turned religious and we daily read the psalms,

but we cringe when we’re confronted by our nation’s coat of arms.

©Bush Poet and Balladeer

Merv Webster