bum bum!
I think you mean ‘Boom Boom’ Gumbud, you’ve still got the vision of that lady joggers buttocks on your mind…
Nice one Robert. I think the Gumbud fella is slacking a bit in the poems lately, too busy playing golf and bumming around I suppose, he’s found his paradise here on earth, the likes of me would be lucky if I spotted a cows arse through a hedge at 5.30 am.
Thanks for explaining that Pug.
Some shapely Derrieres can be spotted from a “Fairway”.
yes she did become a fairway way away away away - of course with these once a weekers it is difficult to arrange an encounter and she didn’t even sound her horns!
really - we don’t churn em out like sausages in a factory
there was an old sausage called Jem
a plain one no spice erhmm no no we’ll leave that one alone !
oh OK go on then:
Times Past
I can remember waking at dawns
In a house very quiet; forlornnnn?
Quiet sounds; kitchen waking
No rock music shakin
Time to take in the murmurs and yawns
Tumbled down bedroom stairs with a hush
Too much noise and we’d get verbal cuff
Sit down each ya porridge
No talkin ; sup fourage
And make sure ya finish it up!
No ya canny run ‘round for a while
Let ya food settle down without smile
Yes I know can be boring
But you just finished snoring
So stir into fire for a while!
Ya wanna go out for a ‘play’
Well go on but don’t go astray
I want ya within call
Or there’ll be mighty brawl
When ya da comes on down for his tay
I counted street cars on one hand
Whilst lookin around for the gang
Only two here today
But enough to start play
We had marbles, some sticks and our hands
We even had to keep noise down out here
Or old Staples would come twist our ears
What ya mean makin noise before kettles boiled
I’ll be talkin ya mothers ya hear
Our street was quiet all day
Bit boring us kids used to say
And as soon as we’re cleared
We charged off with no fear
To find greener fields long the way
We know had tree climbing games
And grassed hills we would climb to wars claim
And where was that tap to slake thirst when we’re slack?
We’d lay on our backs and watch planes
For tucker we knew where to go
Over walls into orchards real slow
The trick; don’t make a sound
And get yourself found
And eat all ya want and then go
Sometimes other gang muscled in
But if we all stood our ground we would win
They would way up of the chance
Of a getting a trounce
And move off shouting obscenities in sin
The golden rule had to be kept
Make sure ya back home or no supper left
We would all straggle in with shoes scuffed
And the shins
And be told go wash ya hands and ya fins
After supper must rest for a while
Read a book ; play dominoes ;try ya guiles
And then the dread call as the Da mad a roar
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax—
AND bed amongst other things”
© gumbud
I’m off for a few weeks, over the hill and far away.
Be well & may God bless you all
Bon Voyage RJ, safe journey.
Well what can I say to that? Back with a bang and worth the wait, new surroundings and the old memories come flooding back, lovely read Gumbud, I take it all back and shall give this sausage roll poet 10 lashes, “Heave away haul away I’m bound for South Australia…”
My Dad used to tell us about one of our ancestors who was transported there back in the late 1700’s for forgery, a fella called Keogh, Michael Keoghs downfall was the demon drink, he got greedy and made mistakes in his work, got caught and sentenced to death then it was changed to transportation, don’t know the circumstances of how he was freed but he eventually was and when he was 55 he married and went on to lead a respectable life, he died when he was 88.
And now straight from the Sausage Factory…
Hey diddle diddle
The wife’s off to Lidi
Summer is coming and the Goose is still skinny
Out in the garden with a smoke and a tinny
RJ is happy to take to the hills
No doubt honing his poetical skills
Soon we too will be away from the masses
The wife and meself will be using free passes
Off on the train for a couple of days
Enjoying the ride while the government pays.
Oh it’s great to be retired.
does anyone remember the one pound summer rail tickets - my father used to purchase them when I was a lad for the whole family and we were able to travel many miles through the english countryside as a family on these tickets - I think it was one pound for one family -not sure but great idea and as a kid as was always amazed that we could do it - like winning the lottery
We used to have something similar here Gumbud called a Rambler ticket, great idea and hugely popular, but that was in the days when the railway company had a heart.
Well,while Ol’ Jem sits in his rocker and rambles…I have just spent a while working in a women’s prison. By the mighty CRINGE,there are some fearsome females on this planet! I’m operating a large heavy machine…and I must’ve had 30+ women purporting to be female,rip their tops up and make loud,VERY ‘to-the-point’ suggestions,while the p/o who was supposed to be keeping them in order/away/anywhere except where I was working,looked on and grinned. SHE had a pot-belly and three teeth…all of which were green,ffs! I GOTS to warn you,lads…do NOT have erotic dreams of breaking into a women’s prison-most of the ‘ladies’ with whom I came into contact would make a yeti with zits seem VERY attractive…and the LANGUAGE! Good Lord,I didn’t hear language like that even when serving in hostile environments!
…I blame Jem…
Good grief Pug. Hope you fended them off alright.
Have a stiff drink to combat the shock, or you’ll behaving nightmares tonight.
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Ohhh,no…nononono—There is NO way I’m risking an alcohol fuelled dream of fat,muscular gap-toothed pot-bellied topless ‘female’ prisoners in baggy grey tracksuit bottoms all leering and making extremely lewd suggestions,as as they make various bits bounce while I ‘run the gauntlet’,because there’s just the one way out! NO,nononono! Blimey-I’ve worked in a fair few male prisons…they seem like calm,contemplative MONASTRIES,compared to that lot! [hey;LOVING the swordsman,btw!]
Serves you bleeding’ right, I hope they haunt you.
Seriously Pug dear boy, my heart grieves for you, what hell it must have been, I hope you recover quickly from your ordeal, visions like that could destroy your faith in the fairer sex forever.
My dinner is over and it’s fast approaching my Sandeman hour, nothing like a good port to calm one down I always think.
reminds me somewhat of the account that one of my favorite writers gives on his travels through the south sea island group many years ago [theroux]. at a particular season of the year men are warned to stay in doors for a whole week - any rash man not heeding this advise can be set up by gangs of women and raped on the street - some men may argue that this is a dream come true but the description in the book is the sequel to Pugs story - whether you want it; like it or can manage it - it happens anyways! and it can turn very messy!
Pardon my ignorance gumbud, but how can a woman (or many), rape a man? I’m trying to be delicate here … but would it work if he was terrified and it was against his will?
I’m very innocent and naïve you see …
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