(subtitles below for those who have trouble with the accent)
TURBULENCE
Here's a tale of Billy Hays from out near Alice Springs
A wild young ringer, he'd done some crazy things
He'd bucked bulls over fences, rode a colt up Ayres Rock
See his legs weren't made for walking they were made for riding stock
A legend round the rodeo from Allaroon to Broome
An untried horse at 6am was saddle broke by noon
No form of equine foolery he wasn't game to try
Only one thing ever spooked him,
He was way too scared to fly.
Well if I was meant to fly he said
I'd have feathers and a beak,
You fly and waste a day and I'll drive and waste a week
I hear they're safe as houses and mechanically they're sound
But I don't see no rope or bridle so aye, I'm staying on the ground
One day Bill got a call from his mate in Adelaide,
He'd got his girl in trouble and the wedding cards were played
He said, Mate I don't care how you do it you can beg or steel or borrow
But Mate you're gunna have to catch the plane, coz the big day is tomorrow.
Billy cursed and spat it "That dopey bloody coot!
He knows I'll jump on anything that's coming out a chute
I've caught stallions that'd kill you, caught bulls gone off their brain
But I never thought there'd come a day I'd have to catch a plane!"
Bill legged it to the airport and thought "Well this is it"
The lady at the counter asked "Where would you like to sit?"
He said "You know that black box thing they always seem to find
"Well you can stick me right in side it if you wouldn't bloody mind"
She gave a friendly smile and "Sir I'll just take your bag"
He said "I don't bloody think so, 'n by the way it's called a swag."
Bill was sweatin' buckets when they finally cleared the strip
He had his seatbelt on that tight he was bleedin' from the hip
But when they levelled out he stopped shakin at the knees
Looked around , relaxed 'n thought "This flyin' game's a breeze"
We clipped his belt undone, stretched out in his seat
Well he couldn't stretch that much 'cause his swag was at his feet.
Then the captain crackled something, Bill asked the hostess what was said
"Sir you'd better buckle up there's some turbulence ahead:
Turbulence - what's that?" "Sir it's pockets caused by heat
"And when it gets severe it can throw you from your seat."
"Throw me, I'll be buggered," Bill pushed his seat right back,
Wrapped his legs around his swag and stuck his left hand through the strap
He jammed down his Akubra, he was ready now to ride
Then things got pretty bumpy and Billy yelled "Outside!"
The plane she dropped a thousand feet, bounced up five hundred more
When his head hit the roof, his backside hit the floor!
"I've rode all through the Territory and never come unstuck
So give me all you've got big bird - buck you bastard buck!"
And while the passengers were screaming in fear of certain death
Billy whooped and hollered 'til he near ran out of breath
You'd have thought that canvas swag was welded to his ass
And before the ringer knew it he's bucked up to business class
There seemed no way to tame this creature, it had ten gears and reverse
But that didn't worry Billy, he just bucked on through to first
He did somersaults with twists on this mongrel mount from hell
He yelled out to the pilot "for Christ sake ring the bell!"
Bill was bleeding from the bugle, he had cuts above both eyes
If you weren't there on the spot ya probably think I'm tellin' lies
He'd been upside down and inside out, done flips and triple spins
Ya might a' seen some great rides in your time but hands down Billy wins
The flight returned to normal, Bill was flat out on the deck
Still stuck to his swag but he looked a bloody wreck
He pulled himself together, stood up straight and raised his hat
He said "I've had some tough trips in me day but never one like that."
"an eight-second spin in Alice proves your made of sturdy stuff
But I was on there a near a minute and I reckon that's enough."
The first class folk were dumbstruck at this crazy ringer's feat
but Bill just grabbed a crownie and walked back to his seat.
Now years have passed and Bill's long give the buckin' game away
Too many breaks and dusty miles for far too little pay
Now plane's are not a worry, in fact he'd rather fly than ride
"N when you talk about his maiden voyage his chest puffs out with pride
"You can talk about your Rocky Neds or that old Chainsaw bloke
I'd ride 'em both without a rope and roll a bloody smoke
There's cowboys 'round who think they're hot, well they aint tasted heat
"Til they've ridden time on Turbulence at 30,000 feet."
People say I’m ugly, people say I’m fat,
People say a lot of things a darn sight worse than that.
They say I like to live in slop, they say my hygiene’s crook,
They say my life is total filth " but I tell ya, they’re mistook.
I may be just a pig to them who rolls in mud and sludge
But who are they to criticise? Who are they to judge?
If I’m given half a chance I’m really very clean,
I don’t throw rubbish in the creek or breathe in nicotine.
I don’t pump smoke into the air or sewage to the sea,
There are a lot of things that I don’t do but still they pick on me.
Well, it’s only fair I get the chance to have a little dig,
You can keep your humans ’cause I’d rather be a PIG!
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
Where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'Round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd "sooner live in hell".
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
Over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
To whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight
In our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
Were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he,
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
Won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
Then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold
Till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread
Of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
You'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
So I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn;
But God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
Of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
That was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
And I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
Because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
To cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
And the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
In my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
While the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --
O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay
Seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
And the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
But I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
And it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
And a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
It was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
And I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry,
"Is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,
And I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
And I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --
Such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
And I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
To hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
And the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
Down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
Went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
Ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . .
Then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
In the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
And he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
You'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
It's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
0 Replies
farmerman
1
Reply
Wed 14 Oct, 2009 04:04 am
@dadpad,
I suspect that there is a want of veracity in several lines of his poems.
I'd agree with that if I knew what veracity meant.
0 Replies
dadpad
1
Reply
Wed 14 Oct, 2009 04:44 am
@dadpad,
Now roger, I want you, please, to look very carefully at the thread title See that word beginning with A. Does it look like anything like ALASKA to You?
)
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