Onward ever onward down the awesome lanes of time,
Coming going, dying reborn, another life inclined,
One time in Tasmania the Pommy hunters killed us out,
A prisoner in irons, cat of nine tails cut about,
Ever suffering for my crime,
What is it all, this doubt?
Ironic is the suffering feel,
in Ireland I was starved,
Potatoes stole, caught and flogged,
Escaped and was at large,
Informer talked and I was caught,
Transported on the Belle,
Bonded servant, flogged, yes sport,
In the cotton fields of hell,
But I lived awhile orright.
Cannon roared, hot lead, aboard,
The yard was crashing down,
Over the side, a Spaniard to board,
Cutlass slashing blood n gore,
death there to seek me out.
In the dark, in a tribe away out west,
Speared a bullock for the tribe to eat,
The Squatter shot us with his friends,
The Troopers not so sweet,
The Crows would not be denied,
Another death I tried?
My bones are incomplete...
Don Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vAvcSTzsYs
Categories:
pommy, adventure,
Form: Ballade
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
Categories:
pommy, adventure,
Form: Rhyme
Luekemia luekemia, the atomic bloody curse,
Menzies the magnificent allowed 12 atom bombs to burst,
The order of the garter for the boofhead Aussie clown,
Became a sir or mr on the tory side of town,
15,000 bones were kept, suspicious deaths the score,
Old soldiers still die today, Luekemia abhor,
Aunty Clare was 21 back in the nineteen fiftys,
Cancer killed her, smoking sure,
Liuekemia wasn't bloody nifty.,
Strontium 90 in the milk,
Radioactive was the grass,
Bulging bloody thyriods in the sheep,
Where ole Marston looked and asked,
(CSIRO)
Right across Australia.
The convict spawn of Australia were deemed
Expendale by the Pommy overlords...
Don Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbbSEkyPtkY
A lot of children died of the radiation.
People died young of Lukemia, cancer,
eg my Aunty Clare at 21, Dirranbandi
Heather Lindsay died young too at Dirranbandi.
She was just one of many.
John Brummell died 40 years later as did Harvey Johnson,
so we had quick and slow deaths....
Categories:
pommy, adventure,
Form: Ballad
Onward ever onward down the awesome lanes of time,
Coming going, dying reborn, another life inclined,
One time in Tasmania the Pommy hunters killed us out,
A prisoner in irons, cat of nine tails cut about,
Ever suffering for my crime,
What is it all, this doubt?
Ironic is the suffering feel,
in Ireland I was starved,
Potatoes stole, caught and flogged,
Escaped and was at large,
Informer talked and I was caught,
Transported on the Belle,
Bonded servant, flogged, yes sport,
In the cotton fields of hell,
But I lived awhile orright.
Cannon roared, hot lead, aboard,
The yard was crashing down,
Over the side, a Spaniard to board,
Cutlass slashing blood n gore,
death there to seek me out.
In the dark, in a tribe away out west,
Speared a bullock for the tribe to eat,
The Squatter shot us with his friends,
The Troopers not so sweet,
The Crows would not be denied,
Another death I tried?
My bones are incomplete…Don Johnson
Categories:
pommy, adventure,
Form: Ballad
Dirranbandi Aggie
Agnes was a local lady, slight,
who had a different view,
Didn’t trust no lectric light,
might just burn her eyeballs too,
fat lamp a bubbling.
yes she lived in a ole brown house,
built yes for her, by her soldier husband,
2 pommy ladies offered to paint her roof, (english)
Silver frost paint on the iron did land,
Yes McGovern. (old Aubrey, me mate)
So she asked about the walls,
Cheapest was the silver frost,
Shining in the blazing sun,
Knock ya eyeballs flat, the cost,
Burnt eyeball loving?
Sheep head soup, was on the menu,
Eyeballs swimming in the soup,
In the rainwater tanks were a sleeping,
Chooks n rellies, in a group, (relatives)
They was stubborn. (coots)
corrugated igloos held galoots,
eggs sometimes found an lost,
long as the rooster got the boot,
bit fowl if he was crossed,
cook him in the old wood stove oven…
Don Johnson
Categories:
pommy, adventure,
Form: Ballad
Francine Roberts
Contest Name
Write me a Lightfoot Poem
Don Quixote
Don Quixote spiked the windmill,
Sancho Panza surely frowned,
Just then the wind began to billow,
Blades dehorsed him, slapped Quixote down,
Back upon his faithful mount,
With Sancho getting up to speed,
for the love of Dulcinea
Will she marry him indeed.
Riding on his mule is Sancho Panza,
Squire of the Don is he,
Like the Aussie soldier Digger,
Rode behind a pommy General, see,
Depriving him of dignity…
(Don Quixote…Gordon Lightfoot)
WW1 soldier rode his donkey, the Digger was also wearing a monocole like the officer, right behind a visiting mounted English General, who was not amused….
Don Johnson
Categories:
pommy, adventure, soldier,
Form: Rhyme
Drongo Leery
Riding on old drongo Leery,
poor old bugger, ticks n lice,
Dodging Traps, Police n Troopers,
Catch a racehorse would be nice.
Robbed a fellow down the river ,
Had no money, he was nice,
Didn’t have no dung on liver,
Gave him a quid,
he thanked me twice.
Country full of Pommy, ex convicts,
Ticket of leave men, yes too right,
Keep yer mouth shut, is their motto,
Seeing nothing, their delight.
“Don’t give your guts, “ is what they’re saying,
Don’t tell the Traps, which way I went,
Buy all the beer at the pub, I’m staying,
Black tracker on me trail is sent.
Ride in front of a bullock team,
Eradicate my tracks, just a bit,
Leave the track on rocky ground,
Leave no tracks, you dumb tom tit. (finch)
Got meself a squatter’s, blood horse,
Saddled and she rooted twice, (bucked a bit)
Need some more tomato sauce,
On me lamb chops very nice.
Cantered up to the mail coach,
Cobb n Co, 6 horses pulling here,
Held em up with old forty four,
Gave jewelry back, to some old dear.
Punch in chest, from shot of rifle,
Down I fall, the pain intense,
Drongo so close, is sniffing, idle,
Death is coming, caring less.
Don Johnson
Categories:
pommy, adventure, me, old, me,
Form: Ballad
We of the Convict strain
A hundred and twenty years ago
Australia had it's several classes
There were we of the convict strain
Mates would stick, just like molasses
The Deported Irish and us Con's
We sort of fit together
We kept our mouths shut
When Traps came about
We knew which nest to feather
Pommy overlords made a quid
And kept us second class
All the Master ever did
Poor worker he'd harass
So stand up give back some sass!
Of course you can crawl to the master
Yes he loves it, yes that's right
He's only there till a dollar begot
From the sweat of your brows, delight
Don Johnson 4-may-11
Categories:
pommy, adventure
Form: Rhyme
Cubbie worker…
So you worked on an out station on Cubbie…
Saw the cattle tracks and also the sheep …
You were only a poor boundary rider …
On your straw bed the hut you did sleep…
The Manager ate in the dining room ….
Jackaroo's, silk shirts and ties were so neat…
Station workers they ate in the kitchen…
The rest of us on the wood heap…
The Pommy overlords sent out the workers…
Housemaids, Jackaroo's, the book keeper…
So the Aussies were duffing his cattle…
Thought Lost in the drought the grim reaper?….
Down near the river the old tribe had cut….
Left handed holes in the Coolabahs hides…
These left handed men are gone, but…
now in Goodooga descendants reside….
You saw the tracks went through the fence….
The boundary fence had opened wide ….
The cattle tracks unbranded young Micky bulls….
And Heifers were side by side….
I’m Paddy the Aboriginal I can track..
The Bunyip or Porkypine….
Boss don’t never give me a fair bloody crack….
It ain't no business of mine….hey
Don Johnson
Categories:
pommy, angst
Form: Ballad
(for: Harris Narang)
Like a scholar of potent Nehru
He comes a pommy to the Iroko;
He comes from a long long voyage
To behold our greying Achilles:
This ever-young archer of the Iroko!
A simple face of old nature’s arts
Bearing the complexion
Of our cherished sublimity;
We saw perfection in the brief smiles;
Come to us again, Narang come!
Come with all the arts of India:
Another eagle is flying to the Iroko;
She flies singing a different song;
Seeking her perfection from nature.
Categories:
pommy, inspirational
Form: Sonnet