Anthony W. Pahl : Secret Men’s Business

Jacky’s Dad ‘n’ bruvver ‘n’ a cupla elders of the clan
Come over one Satd’y arvo to speak to me ole man
I could ‘ear ‘em talking but couldn’ ‘ear anyfin wot they sed
but when they finished yackin’, two flagons of red woz dead.
Me old man and th’ uver blokes lay down a’neath the trees
and soon they was orl snorin’ ‘n’ me nanna wasn’ bluddy pleased
She gavered togever the four of us; me ‘n’ Alan and the two girls
‘n’ sat us ‘round the radio to lis’n to the serials wot woz ‘er world.

Woz afta dark when the men folk woke demandin’ some grub to eat
Nanna tole ‘em where to go ‘n’ they lef’ heads hangin’ like drongo sheep
Cursin’ ‘n’ mutt’ring aneath their breath - me Nanna ‘eard it orl
and woz afta ‘em like a bunyip ridin’ a wild riva in a storm.

Was kinda funny to see me Nanna (who was orl of sevently five)
chasing these bluddy drunken yobs thretnin’ t’ skin ‘em orl alive
She woz cursin’ ‘n’ yellin’ in German but clear an’ in no uncertain terms
That the evils of the liquor would turn ‘em into compost fer the worms.

I neva eva did really find out wot the men folk torked about that day
‘n’ when me cobba Jacky come around th’ next time ‘e wanted to play
I asxed him if he knew anyfin’ wot the blokes discuss’d ‘n’ ‘ad to say
but orl ‘e said it was sumpin’ ‘bout forlin’ of th’ back o’ a truck ‘d be OK.

©Anthony W. Pahl
26 September 2003

Page created: Friday 26 September 2003