The Bloke from Mullumbimby
You won’t know this fella, till I get on with me prose.
But I’ll tell ya this my friends, I think he’s one of those.
Now before you howl me down and question my social status.
My job here blokes is to tell a story, not just how johnfarls rates us.
They stuck him in the navy, he used to box for sport.
Adds were placed upon his soles you would see these adds quite often, with the gloves my friends he wasn’t good, he should have stuck to golfin.
Milkin cows he tried, roamin from wide and far, his hands will bear the evidence,5 thirty shows the scar.
He has a friend, and, boy is she a cutie, beats me folks how a bloke like him ends with such a beauty.
So that’s a little yarn about this bloke, and not much have you gleans. His place in life aren’t nothing much, that’s as a bloke I means.
But let me tell just how much he makes the AUSSIE bloke, yeah golf’s the go, he didn’t have a clue, played off 87, his goals were for the dough.
Well Bruce and me were average, Ross was good at golf, THE BLOKE had a problem though, his putting, well, was off.
His wallet bulged with ego and one day he laid the claim, you and Bruce and Ross and me will play the noble game.
Let me dwell upon the rules, sheep stations were the scene. A beer a beer a beer and two bob, you lose, Ok vent your spleen.
The game was in the best of jest, we practiced the art of discourse. But if you lose old friend, two bob thanks and that has got no recourse.
The BLOKE my friends would not lay down his courage was divine, we lived of his wagers, all night we wined and dined.
Somehow Bruce and me felt time was grown’ thin’, lets have a triathlon we suggested, best of three to win.
Really not the Olympics but a contest just the same, the aim was winnen’, two out three the aim.
Darts, Euchre, Golf were the games we competed, glory for the victor let the loser please stay seated.
One last thing about our bloke, it concerns that Euchre game, with one spade he goes alone his partner Ross is shamed.
The BLOKE was hopeless in all these sports but never would he yield, then my friends the town soon found out he had a special field.
One day we all run last you see, and thinking with a smile, the BLOKE writes some prose, recites some stuff and leaves us for a mile.
You see my friends, please forgive my comments oh so rude, RAY you beaut, we re-vere you in gratitude.
We enjoy your yarns, we’re infected, you’re the peoples choice, an Aussie yarn has impetus simply by your voice.
Mullumbimby bred a BLOKE, BUT Bruce and Ross and ME we bred HIM too,
THE MULLUMBIMBY BLOKE is out there folks he belongs to me and you.
poem by John D. Farley
Added by Poetry Lover
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