Choices
The maggies made the finals aye and what a treat that is.
How long has it been? I know it’s more than seven years,
so like all true supporters of the mighty black and white,
I wouldn’t miss this for the world so I went to book a flight.
Well every maggie from Mildura must have had the same idea,
for every Qantas ticket’s gone and so I had this gloomy fear,
that I’m going to miss the game, and so what am I to do!
Then I heard a plane not Qantas, was flying down there too.
Of course I rarely get to fly and planes look all the same,
and seeing there’s a ticket spare I don’t care ‘bout the name,
as long as I can get to Adelaide to see my maggie football kings.
And I’d fly myself if just by chance God handed me some wings.
Once inside the little plane I could see why seats are spare.
It rattled and it spluttered once we got up in the air,
and once or twice an engine stopped; air pockets spilt my beer.
Maybe I’ll watch my maggie’s from pearly gates close to me here.
But the hostess calmed my nerves with her reassuring smile,
as she bounced from seat to seat while stumbling down the aisle
handing out some little plastic bags and for what I wasn’t sure,
but the movement and the motion had me calling for some more.
And while my stomach churned around, she politely said
to the bloke beside me “Sir, would you like to be fed?’
He looked at me still pale and drawn. “What choices have I though?”
And in her quiet assuming way, she said “Either yes or flamin’ no!”
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