Jump to content
Coopers Community

A poem


rossm

Recommended Posts

I write a bit of traditional bush poetry in my...spare?... time, a few years ago when this site was much newer and home brewing wasn't as well organised as it is now, I wrote this poem but Paul prefered that I not post it then, he thought it might put some new brewers off trying the hobby.....I don't know what made him think that!...Anyway, I believe that the craft is mature enough now to shoulder it so here it goes....

 

 

 

 

 

\u201cGIDGEE JACKS\u2019 LAST BEER\u201d

 

\xa9 Ross Magnay 12/11/07

 

 

 

Gidgee Jack was quite a drinking man he had been all his life,

 

and it cost him all his money, his station and his wife.

 

So Jack moved to the city, and commenced on council pay,

 

but what he earned in one whole week, he drank in just one day!

 

 

 

Now Jack was not a spirits man, he mostly fancied ale,

 

and the pace that he consumed it would turn Ernie Dingo pale!

 

A dozen pints at knock off time, some longnecks for the track,

 

yes he was quite a drinking man, was our mate Gidgee Jack.

 

 

 

But mowing grass and raking leaves, would not support his thirst,

 

and Jack was suicidal, (or something even worse!)

 

Then an idea struck him, just like lightning from the blue,

 

\u201cI\u2019ll get myself a flamin\u2019 kit, and make me own homebrew!\u201d

 

 

 

So next day in his lunch break, Jack found a brewing shop,

 

\u201cI need a flamin\u2019 home brew kit the biggest one you got!\u201d

 

\u201cI\u2019ve saved a stack of longnecks all cleaned and like brand new,\u201d

 

\u201cjust waitin\u2019 home for me to fill with this here flamin\u2019 brew.\u201d

 

 

 

That night Jack started brewing with diligence and care,

 

he had brewing kits and Coopers tins, scattered everywhere.

 

but it finally got together, and the brew began to work,

 

Jack sat down with a longneck, and a happy little smirk.

 

 

 

Then came the time to bottle, and Jack could wait no more,

 

so with measuring things, and capping things and bottle tops galore,

 

he pored through the instructions, till he found the bit that said,

 

\u201cSix grams of brewing sugar will ensure it holds its head.\u201d

 

 

 

Now Jack was not a metric man he never found the need,

 

to measure things too accurate, mostly \u201cmiles\u201d or \u201ctons of feed.\u201d

 

And converting grams to ounces, (well he got on top of that.)

 

so he started priming bottles till he nearly filled his flat.

 

 

 

He filled them up and capped them off, the way the booklet said,

 

then happy and contented, Jack stumbled off to bed.

 

He dreamed about the finished brew, and two weeks down the track,

 

when he would crack some longnecks, and knock a couple back.

 

 

 

A week had passed since bottling day, five days of mowing lawn,

 

and Jack thought, \u201cI feel buggered\u201d as he stretched and gave a yawn.

 

I think I\u2019ll have an hours camp, before I cook some tea,

 

I \u2018spose a bloke is not as young, as what I used to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But as Jack drifted off to sleep, there came a frightening bang,

 

Like gelignite exploding, or a car just had a prang.

 

And then another followed, a bang and then a crack,

 

Jack thought \u201cWell I\u2019ll be buggered, it\u2019s a terrorist attack!

 

 

 

Jack\u2019s three o three was underneath the bed that he was in,

 

He hit the floor and grabbed the gun, and shoved the \u201cmaggy\u201d in.

 

\u201cI\u2019ll show you bloody ragheads, a thing or two.\u201d he said,

 

he fired two shots out through the door from the cover of his bed.

 

 

 

But the firing it intensified and then a rattling run,

 

Jack thought, \u201cThe bloody bastards must have a gattling gun!\u201d

 

the bangs and loud explosions, shook the block of flats complete,

 

as a crowd began to gather on the footpath by the street.

 

 

 

He fired three shots blindly, they went through the Gyprock wall,

 

\u201cGive up you raghead bastards,\u201d the crowd heard Gidgee call.

 

But Jack was out of ammo, and trapped behind his bed,

 

to contemplate his future, he well could wind up dead!

 

 

 

Old Jack was not a coward, a tough old station man,

 

he kept down low behind his bed, to formulate a plan.

 

though the firing still persisted, it was getting less and less,

 

and Jack could sense an ending to this terrorizing mess.

 

 

 

He thought, \u201cpatience is a virtue, I\u2019ll sit and wait it out,\u201d

 

\u201cThey must be low on ammo, I\u2019ll wait till they run out.\u201d

 

and then at last the firing stopped, Jack rushed up to the door,

 

but near reduced to tears, he saw his homebrew on the floor.

 

 

 

That really got Jacks\u2019 dander up, brought scarlet to his face,

 

\u201cI never knew that terrorists, were such a lowly race,

 

smash a fella\u2019s beer supply, and then just wreck the joint,

 

then disappear without a trace, I just don\u2019t see the point.\u201d

 

 

 

So spirit still unbroken, but a different view on life,

 

Jack rolled his swag, and packed a bag, swore off the grog for life.

 

He set himself to trampin\u2019, back out amongst the bush,

 

away from crazy terrorists, and the hectic city push.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thanks fellas, glad you enjoyed it, yeah I know Paul, the craft had only just come out of the cupboard...so to speak when I actually wrote this, and to non informed or less daring brewers it could well have been a deterent, I believe the brewers now are better informed thanks to sites like this, and yes it is based on a personal experience....with a fair amount of poetic licence incorporated. :wink: ......and I wasn't having a go at you mate!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 years later...

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...