15 May 2015 - 'BRUNO'S SEVEN WIVES' - Gunnedah Hero

BRUNO'S SEVEN WIVES

- Gunnedah Hero -

G'day folks,

Today, I present a bush poem that I wrote some years back. It is one of four bush poems included in award-winning 'Gunnedah Hero'. You have already read one of the poems - 'Me Old Banana Box'. 

This book has won two awards in the Australian National Literary Awards; one as a book and the other as a manuscript. So, this bush poem is a humorous tale of a smooth Italian on the Australian goldfields during the gold rush in the 1850's.

BRUNO’S SEVEN WIVES

‘Twas way back in the big o’l Rush – the golden one I mean,

I met a Latin bloke, so rough and tough and downright lean.

It happened quite by chance down at a ‘Sly’ near Tamba Creek,

of all the wildly tales he had ‘twas gold he hoped to eke.

Me and Bruno, we had fun and laughed with happy glee

but two pint-pots and pretty soon neither of us could see.

We made the other patrons leave with all our talk and noise,

we didn’t mean them any harm, us larrikins of boys.

Ol’ Bruno, he was quite a lad and had a wife or two,

was my turn to get lucky when I met a girl named Prue.

She was a strong and solid lass, and boy she had a smile,

made her way to see him as she walked a lengthy mile.

He said she was his seventh – and I thought him up to tricks,

lucky that I’d kept the peace, then met his number six.

A shorter girl with darker hair was quite a charming maid,

poor Jane, she sat there all forlorn, a-lookin’ rather staid.

I got up in the morning and had Bruno come to me

with another bold and fearless lass he called his number three.

Ah, this one was a sweetie – so damn young and pretty too,

the newest one of Bruno’s and by far the best of few.

She too was Latin, seems that she had followed him by sea,

had crossed the wildest oceans just to find and be with he.

I liked that gal indeed – for me it was her Latin charm,

though nought a chance I knew I had, but lookin’ did no harm.

A week had passed us by and then I met a bawdy one,

a girl so full and amply built; by God, she was some fun.

And just when I had chances and some thoughts I might deplore,

Bruno came upon the scene this time with number four.

To make things even worse along came woman number two,

so there I was just starin’, there was nothin’ I could do.

I sat still all agog and just admired his lovin’ way,

while Bruno made the sounds that seem to make all women sway.

That lean, smooth Latin lover, he said everything just right,

he charmed the girls, he soothed their souls and left me no delight.

I’d never seen the likes of him; smooth charm he sure did ooze.

Old Bruno played it super cool and let his women choose.

He knew of all the tiny whispers girls so like to hear,

it was a tried and simple style and made them feel no fear.

I’m sure it was his charming grin and true romantic heart,

that offered him the full-proof edge and left me with no start.

Yet me and Bruno stayed as mates like bees inside a hive,

but some time  later on the scene out came his number five.

She was true Irish, just like me, but greener than the rest,

her name was Kathryn Ryan and by far the very best.

One night while we were sittin’ ‘round a hot and roarin’ fire,

just havin’ fun and laughin’ ‘till the humour turned to ire,

it was a bold and tough old wench who came upon the scene,

she bowled right in on all of us, so hard and downright mean.

 ‘Twas Bruno’s number one; a scary gal called Madame Lash,

who spat out evil anger making all the others dash.

Then she let forth ya know, she was a swearin’, cursin’ dame,

and left our dearest Bruno feeling weak and kind of lame.

That’s how it happened way back then, back amidst the Rush,

When I met a clean lean Latin - so full of lovely gush.

That’s how I came to find meself a cute ‘lil Irish wife,

when Lash got hold of Bruno and caused a heap of strife.

Clancy's comment: Bring a smile to ya face? Hope so. Now, hit the 'Gunnedah Hero Reviews' button above and read what people thought of this novel. Then, head to the top right hand side of the page and buy a paperback or e-Book. You'll love it!

By the way, the sequel has just been released - 'A Drover's Blanket'.


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3 January 2015 - ME OLD BANANA BOX

ME OLD BANANA BOX

G'day folks,

Today I feature one of my favourite bush poems as we call them in Australia. Hope it makes you smile. This poem and three others is included in 'Gunnedah Hero'. I enjoy writing these poems, but don't allocate enough time to do so. The 'Lawson' mentioned is Henry Lawson, one of Australia's greatest authors and poets.

I rest me feet upon that box, the one I’ve always had,

‘twas one of them solid ones and left by good old Dad.

It used to house bananas and came from who knows where,

when he worked the streets of Gunnedah, floggin’ vegies over there.

I’ve had that old wooden crate forever and a day,
it’s stored me kindlin’, housed a pup and chores along the way.

Respectfully I raised me feet and had a damn good peek,

grabbed it firm and turned it not knowin’ what to seek.

 A box that’s spent more time with me, more years than a wife,

but sure as hell, that wondrous crate has never caused me strife.

She’d always been a solid friend and never let me down,

never gave me misery and never made me frown.

It used to sit outside the door to store me firewood,

once it stored some bulbs I found; by God they were so good.

Came the time I changed all that and sought another job,

them bulbs I buried near the well, me box went on the hob.

But then I found another task for me favourite wooden crate,

it soon became a ferret’s home just near the old back gate.

There was a time in Grenfell Town where Lawson hailed from,

‘twas there indeed I lent me crate to a snivellin’ bloody Pom.

He was a poet or so he said, that crate on which he’d stand,

recite sweet words, smile a lot and wave his whoppin’ hand.

He finished his spiel, grabbed me box and quickly off he went,

but runnin’ fast I caught that bloke and claimed the box I lent.

When once I went to Sydney Town, it surely came with me,

to house me clothes, shavin’ gear, me Billy and me tea.

‘Twas like a wooden suitcase but others they would laugh,

it might have looked rough you know but did the job by half.

Sure, some blokes had fancy gear; nothin’ like me crate,

yet me and that banana box are still a pair to date.

So here I sit with me box just lookin’ at it’s charm,

scratches, dints and travellin’ wounds, none have done it harm.

I think I might retire it to a spot inside somewhere,

maybe place it near me bed to save on wear and tear.

It’s been me closest mate, that travelled wooden crate,

together we have weathered storms, survived the lot by fate.

 

Finally I found a spot right near me rockin’ chair,

just beside the radio, it fitted neatly there.

On top I placed a doily thing to spare it from more pain

in case I dropped some ciggie ash or tea I knew would stain.

It looked damn good sittin’ there and really brought a grin,

for every time I used that box it gave me no chagrin.

So now I sit with a smile, that mate is by me side,

there to the right of me just like a country bride.

And what a mighty pair we made together as a team,

it sure as hell ain’t fantasy nor is it a dream.

Not sure how long I have to go: “Oh Lord just let me be!”

and one thing I can tell you mate, that box will outlive me. 

Clancy's comment: There ya go.

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