Bush Poetry - Of Corset's Funny!

Tweet

Our poor member @moffittjc had a slight accident the other day and is now nursing broken ribs. The ribs have been strapped and he says it looks a bit like a girdle which is the perfect excuse for me to post my second bush poem. I've only ever written three and I can't find the third so I won't be swamping you with my doggerel. I hope you enjoy it. Sorry it's so long but them's the breaks. Sticky Wicket Way back in the 60s, young Andrew started school He wasn't much of a scholar and mostly played the fool. He'd squirm and wriggle and talk and giggle until in great despair The teacher would let go with the chalk and try to part his hair. As the years went by he grew tall and strong, he excelled at any sport But he loved his footie, he was fleet of foot, his games were always hard fought. But the years caught up and the beers caught up and his speed it fell away When his hamstring went for the third or fourth time he decided to call it a day And he tried the bowls but that was too slow and he didn't care for cricket But then one day he found himself on a very sticky wicket. He'd always had an eye for the girls and they thought he was alright With his fine physique and tight blond curls and his footie shorts oh so tight He’d ply them all with beer and wine, either white, rose or red And oftentimes, when he woke up, it was someone else's bed. But, as I said he gave footie away and golf became his game It wasn't long and his skills improved and with it all his fame Though settled and wed he still played around though his conquests were much older He got away with it time after time and so became even bolder. Then came the day a team was needed to play in the city of Perth He put forward his name. Here was a chance to really prove his worth. Now at this very swanky club, when they'd finished their round They weren't allowed in the clubroom till they'd showered and towelled down. Four of them had gone that day; they're all in the dressing room And they can't help staring at Andrew who was nearly in the nude. 'How long you been wearing that corset', asked Jack. 'I've never seen that before I didn't know you had a bad back. It hasn't affected your score.' 'I don't have a crook back', said Andrew, and sighed. 'It'd really rot your socks. I've worn it since the missus found it, stuffed in the Ford's glove box'.