A little bush poetry, and good for a laugh.

Take a gander at the history of the Dunny.
http://www.warrenfahey.com/bush-dunny.htm

Bush Poetry on The Thunder Box.
They say the Landlord of the old Diggers Rest hotel in Victoria used to do this many, many years ago.
A good, old fashioned joke ....nuthin like em....
This is particularly for those who remember what it was like to have........a...... DUNNY!



The Old Service Station

The service station trade was slow.
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
Piled shavings on the ground.

No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill
Led to a shack, marked "His" and "Hers"
That sat against the hill.

'Where is the ladies restroom, sir?'
The owner leaning back,Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.
With quickened step she entered there

But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake
Or spider might be in it.
With startled look and beet red face she bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car
Just like three gals before.

She tripped and fell --
got up,and then in obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.

Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.

A speaking system he'd devised
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
Beneath the toilet seat.

He'd wait until the gals got set and then the devilish guy,
would stop his whittling long enough,to speak into the mike.
And as she sat, a voice below struck terror, fright and fear
'Will you please use the other hole? We're painting under here!'

Please feel free to laugh a little.


Another Lovely Australian Poem

It has something for everyone - If you know the bush, it will appeal to you, if you work in the oil industry, there is something in it for you too, if you have a sense of humour - well, it might test it a little and if you are not an Australian, then it won't help your knowledge of Australian life one bit.......................

Goodbye Granddad.

Poor old Granddad's passed away, cut off in his prime,
He never had a day off crook - gone before his time,
We found him in the dunny, collapsed there on the seat,
A startled look upon his face, his trousers around his feet,

The doctor said his heart was good - fit as any trout,
The Constable he had his say, 'foul play' was not ruled out.
There were theories at the inquest of snakebite without trace,
Of redbacks quietly creeping and death from outer space,

No-one had a clue at all - the judge was in some doubt,
When Dad was called to have his say as to how it came about,
'I reckon I can clear it up,' said Dad with trembling breath,
'You see it's quite a story - but it could explain his death.'

'This here exploration mob had been looking at our soil,
And they reckoned that our farm was just the place for oil,
So they came and put a bore down and said they'd make some trials,
They drilled a hole as deep as hell, they said about three miles.

Well, they never found a trace of oil and off they went, post haste,
And I couldn't see a hole like that go to flamin' waste,
So I moved the dunny over it - real smart move I thought,
I'd never have to dig again - I'd never be 'caught short'.

The day I moved the dunny, it looked a proper sight,
But I didn't dream poor Granddad would pass away that night,
Now I reckon what has happened - poor Granddad didn't know,
The dunny was re-located when that night he had to go.

And you'll probably be wondering how poor Granddad did his dash--
Well, he always used to hold his breath
Until he heard the splash!!

Australian Poetry Competition.
The Australian Poetry competition had come down to two finalists - a university graduate and an old aboriginal.
They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study the word and come up with a poem that contained the given word.
The word they were given was TIMBUKTU
First to recite his poem was the university graduate.
He stepped up to the microphone and said;


Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked a lonely caravan
Men on camels, two by two,
Destination - TIMBUKTU
The crowd went crazy.. No way could the old aboriginal top that, they thought.
The old aboriginal calmly made his way to the microphone and recited.


Me and Tim a-huntin' went
Met three whores in a pop-up tent.
They was three, and we was two
So I bucked one, and TIMBUKTU.
The aboriginal won.