The bushman, Gus Cigar

By Mick Martin

We didn't know his last name but he told us he was Gus.
His smile just a wrinkle, not a man to make a fuss

He said he'd lived with natives in the ranges way out West
And when it came to tracking, Gus Cigar was with the best.

The story goes that gus was blessed with extra sense to see

the trail of any creature from an emu to a flea

He followed through the bushland where he rarely missed a mark

A piece of moss, a stone askew, a little piece of bark

like when young Molly Dorkins thought she'd take a little walk.
She wouldn't last the night through, "she'll be dead" was all the talk.

but when they called on Gus he simply asked where was she last
and off he went to find her, tracking true and tracking fast.

So when at last, he found her it was dark and it was cold.
They hailed him as a hero, Molly saved, was three years old.

He always smoked an old cigar and wore a
tattered scarf
And if he had a drink at all, he’d simply order "half"

Like many in the region Gus had seen his share of strife

Three children back in England and a wicked, wanton wife

Fine  fettler for the railway, Gus was tough and he was fair

But seeing her like that was more than any man could bear

So rather than confront her Gus thought better he should go

To board a steamer called the rose to where? he did not know.

He lived alone and worked “ad hock” as jobs were awful rare

We figured him for sixty but he looked the worse for wear

But when that fateful day came when a child had turned up dead
They found an old cigar nearby, "it must be Gus! " they said.

But Gus was on the wander when some lads broke in his hut.
They all thought Gus was guilty and they labelled him a "nut".

Cigars the lads had stolen were enough to seal his fate.
good sense was out the window, in the door came fear and hate.

When Granny found the boys were smoking, she made such a scene.
The coppers grilled them one by one, they found out where they'd been.

The finger pointed squarely at the roughest youth they'd seen.
Past crimes were cruel and callous, he was bad and he was mean.

good luck is worth a fortune, Gus would never hear the tale

Of how they thought him guilty and they wanted him in jail

So next time when they need him and they put Gus to the test

They’ll pat him on the back again and tell him ; he’s the best!

.
Mick Martin 14/12/16 V7

All rights reserved

The stranger

Mick Martin

Old Dad was really honest and a clever bloke as well

And His Dad, same before him and that's how the apple fell

So when he found this stranger Mum was really quite surprised

In hindsight that decision then, would likely be revised

The truth is worse than fiction and he simply moved straight in.

We welcomed him with open arms, Mum took it on the chin

But as we grew, we loved him, he would sit with us each day

We listened, with our mouths agape, to every word he'd say

Now Dad was open minded to his view on this and that.

I often sat and listened, watching both during their chat.

The stranger made us laugh, oh, he was full of witty quips

He taught my older sister how a boy kissed on the lips.

I can't recall the words Mum used but she was not impressed

and all at once the family, then, seemed just a bit less blessed

The stranger swore, we gasped as one, but no one threw him out

And slowly, it took years I know, our values fell to doubt.

At Christmas time we used to sit and make each Chrissie card

Since he arrived a;; that has stopped, he told us that's too hard.

He told us where the sales are and he told us where to shop

That stranger told us, buy a car, but get the one that's top. 

I hardly see my Dad these days, he works from dawn till late

To pay for all those extra things, it seems a big mistake

I heard the stranger saying that if Mum should get a job

That we could buy a bigger house, I wished he'd shut his gob!

The stranger ruined everything, soon swearing was ok.

The things we owned weren't  good enough, he told us so each day.

He sure knew lots of stories, and he told us he was great

NOW, Mum and Dad are working, it's just him and us till late!

I think by now you've guessed it, that this stranger has a name

But wait there, just a minute, its a million dollar game !

Oh, I'm sorry, now the ads on, whats that look of indecision?

I'm just sitting with that stranger, have you guessed? 

he's television....

Mick Martin 

All rights reserved   27/3/2015  V14, 11/7/16

BE GLAD YOUR NOSE IS ON YOUR FACE

by Jack Prelutsky

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!