Wharfie

WHARFIE Twenty years ago I drove a bus in 1970 day or night, For Brisbane council yes I drove blue panthers I'm no skite. To New Farm Wharf I drove a load of passengers alright But one big Wharfie picked on me and ordered me to fight. He said I drove a cattle truck I agreed that he was right With seventy people on the bus the crowd was packed so tight They stood and watched and waited while he and I'd alight They'd see the match a blood sport their favourite delight He came for me a flailing with arms both left and right A straight left flashed to hit his chin he fell against a wall His hat flew off it left him it sailed on out of sight Though he came again to meet me by the left again he'd fall He straightened and he muttered "that's enough" no further brawl So I climbed aboard and drove away heard no complaints at all But one old tart upon the bus to the council made a call I'd hit a pensioner oh so cruel it was her story tall But she was known to city hall a ratbag full of spite The only one who saw a foul the others thought me right To phone up and report the drivers her delight You may please a few but never all, oh no no no not quite. So for this crime of self defence I answered the report What can you do to stop a fight if the other likes the sport? No other course was open no escape no last resort Of two short jabs in self defence to stop a fight my thought by D H Johnson.