Kill the Boer, kill the farmer
A song sung in a stadium by thousands
Reverberating a chorus of spine-chilling fear
A call to incite hatred and violence
Tomorrow, we mourn - another farmer
Umshini wami (my machine gun)
Paralysing fear runs through your soul
To wipe out the Boer and the farmer
A call to genocide, they cajole
Rat-a-tat, see how they run
There is no defence against this genocide
You must die, self-defence is a crime
Hundreds and thousands of crosses, erected
For the innocent these numbers climb
The Boer and Farmer in death abide.
You defy belief
Thanks dear
I mean, seven in the morning, and you’re sober
Pub went on fire, early night
Someday you will die a lonely man
My God, that philosophy degree has done you good
Why, because I state the obvious
Exactly, we’re all going to die someday
Not from liver cirrhosis
No, you’ll go from nagging-itis
Always the comic
Being married to you dear brings out the best in me
Do you ever wonder why I left
Have you left
Yes, I’m now happy with Jeff
Philosophy again, seven in the morning, you passing by
I was concerned about you
Jeff’s boring the pants off you
No he isn't, he’s my rock
Fancy a quickie
Certainly not
C’mon he’s a boring history teacher
Jeff’s a lecturer
It’s written all over your face, frustration my dear
Our sex life is great
Sex to the Boer war, riveting
Jeff is tuned into me
Battle of Britain music, is that oral to Jeff
Hate you
I see that look in your eyes
Hate you
You want me
Shut up, let's go
Will you be passing by again anytime soon
Not if I can help it
You sure, I don’t mind helping out
Going for a romantic weekend with Jeff
See you Monday then
Only if I'm passing by
Hard cheese for the E U
The Dutch, have tractored through'
A sea change election from
A farm conscious; direction
Theres now a great party
Grounded in sanity looking in clarity
Holland may longer sinking? from
Great green waste bills a'stinking
Reality astounding could well
Counter such drowning, which illegal
And immoral brings division and quarrel
Heads up now Holland.' May brighter
Prospects soon follow; on.'
Context,
Boer War , South Africa
The Battle for Spion Kop
Slag van Spioenkop
Ladysmith , Natal
23 January 1900
British forces under the command
Sir Redvers Buller
Dug in to take the higher ground
on Spion Kop
In order to engage the Boer army
encircling below
Lead by General Louis Botha
The rest is written down in history, folklore and infamy
And a famous football club's stand named after it
Dedicated to it's fallen
2nd Battalion Lancashire Fusseliers
243 Dead
1250 Casualties
I write this only because,
i myself visited this hilltop graveyard paid homage and knelt before it's unkept memorial upon it
And instead of feeling what i thought
i should be the travesty, horror and
utter futility of war
And whilst leaving took 1 final glance over my shoulder at the vista and panorama only to be over come by the sheer unadulterated serenity and beauty
And i left perversely thinking what a beautiful place to die
Death has a hell of a lot to live up too
My old firm now seemed to have an African address,
I wondered how much of it was just a mess,
Green Lane had become No. 1 Moffat Ave., Kwazulu,
now I could hear the locals muttering:
'Oogu poogu poogu! ( you are a fool)
I had visions of an asegai shuddering into the door,
Rorke's Drift really happened in the time of the Boer;
I used to draw charts, we had an African employee,
I wondered why he couldn't do them instead of me.
Because he wasn't good enough, muggins was in line,
client's requirements - don't forget the rack for the wine;
the symbols on the columns said: 'You must enjoy -
whether you like it or not, please don't call me 'boy.'
They buried Winnie, ironic name as she was a loser,
after 'necklaces,' killing boys, we shouldn't excuse her.
O'er
Frank de Boer
© Gail Foster 11th September 2017
Aussie Flag o the Convict spawn
Under this flag we fought for sure,
defending Pommy gits and more,
defending of our nation,
in murderous situations,
tween Afghans and the Boer...
we'd run it up the old flagpole,
fluttered there our heart and soul,
the Aussies are on station,
the convict spawn relation,
adventure is our goal,
you step on us we will step on you,
careful how you treat us blue,
right cross to the snotter too,
in a stirry situation,
the Aussies and the Kiwis saw,
that we were cannon fodder for,
pommy overlords of nations,
respect for them no never when,
we spearheaded Tobruk and Alamein,
less pommy casualties to frame,
colonial extermination...
Don Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACFGr3G1In8
Ned Kelly
DNA
Kelly DNA found
throughout the land,
and down around the
Dungle Bore,
Fred Layton had a
strand,
He had the Kelly
earmark, wore,
his descendants
Harpers, grand,
wore the Dan Kelly
type of ear-lobe,
that DNA had
planned,
If you look at Red
Kellys' brood,
they have the
lobeless ear,
distinctive breed &
trademark proved,
Don Johnson says
it's here,
Fred Layton he was
no wuss,
clean-skins they
needed branding,
the law of the bush,
a brand to push,
the T-Bones were
understanding,
100 Dan Kellys tried
to show,
that they were not
Red Herrings,
Alone Steve Hart,
Dungle Bore did go,
double cover in his
bearing,
bloody cunning
so-n-so:}
Traps they knew of
Steves' death too,
his cross in old
Calcutta,
Dan came home alone,
from the Boer War
zone,
as the Leather-heads
do mutter
{birds of the bush}
Don Johnson
Leatherheads have a
bump of meat on on
top of the beak....a
grey friar bird who
will talk to lonely
people in the
outback
She qualified more years ago
than many people want to know.
In fact it was before the War;
(we’re talking now about the Boer.)
Her methods haven’t changed a lot,
since Granny Smith was just a tot
and still she carries, all the time,
some tansy, hyssop and a lime.
Her gentle touch, a word or two
will keep us from our Waterloo.
And if we suffer stress or strain
she'll calm us down and then explain,
"A little rum will ease the pain!"
~
Think you may have been an Aussie Joe,
last time on the planet, south,
probably fought in some British war,
till yer chips were cashiered out,
used ol .303 enfield, no bloody doubt,
but life n death, was turn about,
but nothings bloody sure,
perhaps amongst the Boer,
did ya lifeblood here run out....
Don Johnson
War
Were you lost in the war,
tween the Poms n the Boer
Bush Veldt Carbineers,
for sure, one time.
Did death interfere,
enlisted no fear, dumb time,
Were you in the trench,
with the dead oh the stench,
When lice were chewing just fine,
Kaiser Bill’s, machine gunner’s , did you kill,
Just another one of the times.
Time wasting for sure,
when death shuts the door,
The baby does grow yet again,
Poor bugger me, has to learn it all see,
Old enough for death to explain.
Hitler came next and the Japanese threat,
In the death march, you died of the bayonet,
So come back again, like a veteran,
This time, try to explain it.
Don Johnson
In South Africa during the Boer War
Granddad got the key of the door
In France during World War 1
He lay wounded when the day was done
He could have met a very bloody end
But for the bravery of his friend
So he lived to fight another day instead
And died an old man in his own bed
I came to find freedom, I came to be understood,
I came to be me.
In a world where I’m always going to be the “black sheep”
Seeking out “poetry soup” was no easy task,
But I found “Little Boer Pete”.
Or did she find me?
I’m not the greatest poet on this site,
But I might have something I didn’t have before.
Honesty!
Because honestly I wanted my voice to be heard.
And in this little world you have brothers and sisters,
Mothers and fathers,
Who have that one common connection.
Our heart and blood flows through these notebooks, keyboard, and pens.
Can’t wait to log in,
So I can be “one” with them again.
To get a comment from Miss. B.,
To learn how profound she writes.
To learn she might like my thoughts and insight.
I’m gleaming,
My confidence is exuding,
A fellowship of people,
Reading apart of their soul
Rather if it’s whole,
Or filled with love,
I’m apart of something
More than what I thought it to be.
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