Tuesday, 3 May 2011

A tale of happiness and some poetry (Don't worry it's not mine)

Ive just finished a particularly annoying shift, where almost every time I sat down someone would be calling for something incredibly urgent, which usually wasn't.  Then someone angling for a longer break pulled the fire switch and this meant that the whole place had to be evacuated until the fire department had arrived and reset the alarm panel.


It is now officially my day off and here is an account of my day so far:
  • On the way home the radio, feeding off my USB stick, was pumping my absolute favourite songs which meant that on the insanely crowded road my vehicle was karaoke central [1] I'd like to think that everyone else on the road was stuck on talkback radio or listening to the traffic report.
  • When I got back home I had my first coffee in a long time [2]
  • I've just sat down to watch an episode of The Muppets on Youtube [3] and discovered the "Working at the Carwash Blues" by Jim Croce [4] which I am now listening to for the twentieth time in a row because I already knew he was great but this song is just so cool.

It looks as though the rain is going to clear up which means that laundry will be able to be done and as soon as it's on the line I'm heading into the city to spend the day in the library because with the noise of the modern world it's incredibly relaxing to settle down at a table and attempt to read every book they have in a single day.

For the first time in a long time I'm happy with Children of the Revolution and am doing some much needed fleshing out of each chapter a bit more.  Of course this will end up with me rewriting vast sections but that's pretty much par for the course! [5] 

So yeah, life is awesome and I love everyone! [6]

And for no reason at all last night my brain was kept on coming back to this poem. I have no earthly idea why but here it is for your pleasure.

Written in 1861 and still going strong.  Er, that is to say, Cunning Plan! 

by A.B. “Banjo” Paterson

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, “Excuse me, can you ride?”

“See here, young man,” said Mulga Bill, “from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroy’s Gap to Castlereagh, there’s none can ride like me.
I’m good all round at everything as everybody knows,
Although I’m not the one to talk – I hate a man that blows.
But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;
Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.
There’s nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,
There’s nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,
But what I’ll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight:
I’ll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.”

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
That perched above Dead Man’s Creek, beside the mountain road.
He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
But ‘ere he’d gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,
It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man’s Creek.

It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:
The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,
The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,
As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.
It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,
It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;
And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek
It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man’s Creek.

‘Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:
He said, “I’ve had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;
I’ve rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,
But this was the most awful ride that I’ve encountered yet.
I’ll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it’s shaken all my nerve
To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.
It’s safe at rest in Dead Man’s Creek, we’ll leave it lying still;
A horse’s back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.”

The Notes:
  1. At the present time it's packed full of The Pogues, Flogging Molly and Fraggle Rock and if you must know:
    Fairytale of New York. Devils Dance Floor and Every Dog Has His Day.  Let me be your song and Listen to Convincing John.
  2. Cappachino with a shot of vanilla and I'm strictly rationing them because otherwise I'd have no money left
  3. Series 5 Episode 7 - Glenda Jackson
  4. As sung by Gonzo the Great and his amazing backup chickens
  5. Horrible the dog, in addition to being an ex fighting dog that Evelyn rescued, now has a pegleg and I can't for the life of me remember why.
  6. Especially you


  1. 1. Your planned day sounds wonderful.
    2. Muppets!!! *squeal*
    3. Your taste in music rocks. Seriously.
    4. Am glad your novel is working out the way you want thus far. :)
    5. Really cool poem, kinda funny. Have not read it before, so thanks for that.

  2. Sorry I haven't made it by before. I’m so glad I found you through the A to Z challenge. I look forward to visiting again.