Eary Solution
I’d been cutting spuds for seed beneath the pines on Rouse’s lot,
and putting lime upon the open flesh to make sure they don’t rot.
I had to slice so every piece contained a growing eye,
and every spud that goes to ground will live so none should die.
Of course the sowing’s done with tractors if you know what I mean.
The spuds are tipped into a hopper and are planted by machine.
One bloke drives the tractor while on the hopper one is manned,
so I cannot do the job alone - I need a helping hand.
Now the bloke I’ve got to help me is a rough and ready bloke,
who doesn’t mind a beer or two and quite enjoys a smoke.
He says a man should be a man. He should drink and swear and fight.
Of course when he brings up this subject I agree that he is right.
Though I thought with his bravado that one action did seem strange,
and at first I wasn’t game to ask him ‘what’s bought on the change!’
For he’s in singlet, shorts and thongs; that’s his normal working gear,
but he’s got a fancy golden ring dangling from one ear.
It wasn’t like those sleeper rings that blokes have taken to;
it looked more like a socialite’s that’s worth a bob or two,
and so when it came to ‘smoko’, I threw out a bit of bait,
but in a sheepish way he said “It’s just an ear ring mate!”
I told him that I knew that for the evidence is clear,
so I asked him “For how long had he worn it in his ear!”
He stammered when he tried to speak, then finally he said,
“I’ve worn it ever since the missus found it in our bed.”
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