Why do people throw caution to the wind, why try out the devil. It's time to re-wind the "ODE TO THE FLOODED CAUSEWAY".
LOCATION: Eastern seaboard of Australia, any where really. Any where there is flooded stream crossing a 'causeway or ford'. GOOGLE SEARCH; (flooded causeway), you will see where I am coming from. In january 2008 we lost a friend in the BRUNSWICK VALLEY, NSW, OZ, we were shattered and dismayed. Amongst the harrowing thoughts that races through a persons head a poem surfaced, a crappy "BUSH POEM", look inside it, I still dwell on the 'inside'.
Many lives have been lost in our little area; TAKE YOUR HAND OFF IT.
AND THEN IT HAPPENED, SO SAD, SO NEEDLESS.
ODE TO THE FLOODED CAUSEWAY. ©John d Farley 2008
That buggers come up again.
That was quick, so they were right, but what would they know, this my domain.
Lets have a go, will I, nah, take the shoes off and wade a little, seems ok, what’s the staff gauge say? Only one meter? gees I must have a piddle.
I’m nervous, I’m anxious; calm is the antonym, which knows better.
Have a go yer mug, maybe one day the word is r.i.p. That’s it, let her rip, me names god, so send me a letter.
So bloody easy, didn’t I tell yeah? I’ll drive her fast make a wave think of the Ark.
Well, the light’s growing dim, so what, I’ll be home for tea and family stuff and hear old faithful bark.
And howl and whine and fret and act like a lonely animal without a friend, she knows darn well what’s up.
I’ll get there, didn’t I tell yer, I am invincible, I am a’winnin.
You beauty, nearly there, piss of log, don’t need you, or more got the bastards got me, I’m go’ in swimmim.
Strange emotions, many odd thoughts, peaceful stuff.
Me life, me mates, me wife and kids, the old bitch.
Must learn a better word for me dog, now here’s the pitch, ‘I’ve bugger him up’ and all’s getting black, heaps of bubbles.
Bubbles, I can use them, yes I can. Their fleeting things, I grab for them. I known now I’m in very deep troubles.
Upside down, I don’t have a clue, the air I breath is, its, well just like tea.
Is this the end? No coming back, no more you, no more me?
The feeling of release is somehow strange but relaxin’. What have I done, I don’t blame myself, it was somehow stupid but now it’s quite, and real perplexin’.
I didn’t have much time for prayer, but nows a pretty fair time.
Look after me wife and kin please god, oh, and that bitch of mine.
When yah find me, someday soon, wields that bloody cudgel.
All I want’s is my wife, me kids, me bitch, and the mates at Billinudgel.
Here we go there’s that last bubble, peace has got me, me wife, my kids, me old dog.
me wife me me dogs kid.
me wife me kids me dog,
I made a bad choice, better next time, forgive me and learn.
me wife me kids and me dog.
I would still be here but for that friggin’ great log.
John d farley © 2008, http://www.johnfarlsbrunz.com/, email; johnfarls@bigpond.com
AND THEN IT HAPPENED, SO SAD, SO NEEDLESS.
ODE TO THE FLOODED CAUSEWAY. ©John d Farley 2008
That buggers come up again.
That was quick, so they were right, but what would they know, this my domain.
Lets have a go, will I, nah, take the shoes off and wade a little, seems ok, what’s the staff gauge say? Only one meter? gees I must have a piddle.
I’m nervous, I’m anxious; calm is the antonym, which knows better.
Have a go yer mug, maybe one day the word is r.i.p. That’s it, let her rip, me names god, so send me a letter.
So bloody easy, didn’t I tell yeah? I’ll drive her fast make a wave think of the Ark.
Well, the light’s growing dim, so what, I’ll be home for tea and family stuff and hear old faithful bark.
And howl and whine and fret and act like a lonely animal without a friend, she knows darn well what’s up.
I’ll get there, didn’t I tell yer, I am invincible, I am a’winnin.
You beauty, nearly there, piss of log, don’t need you, or more got the bastards got me, I’m go’ in swimmim.
Strange emotions, many odd thoughts, peaceful stuff.
Me life, me mates, me wife and kids, the old bitch.
Must learn a better word for me dog, now here’s the pitch, ‘I’ve bugger him up’ and all’s getting black, heaps of bubbles.
Bubbles, I can use them, yes I can. Their fleeting things, I grab for them. I known now I’m in very deep troubles.
Upside down, I don’t have a clue, the air I breath is, its, well just like tea.
Is this the end? No coming back, no more you, no more me?
The feeling of release is somehow strange but relaxin’. What have I done, I don’t blame myself, it was somehow stupid but now it’s quite, and real perplexin’.
I didn’t have much time for prayer, but nows a pretty fair time.
Look after me wife and kin please god, oh, and that bitch of mine.
When yah find me, someday soon, wields that bloody cudgel.
All I want’s is my wife, me kids, me bitch, and the mates at Billinudgel.
Here we go there’s that last bubble, peace has got me, me wife, my kids, me old dog.
me wife me me dogs kid.
me wife me kids me dog,
I made a bad choice, better next time, forgive me and learn.
me wife me kids and me dog.
I would still be here but for that friggin’ great log.
John d farley © 2008, http://www.johnfarlsbrunz.com/, email; johnfarls@bigpond.com
