Now the drovers cook weighed 15 stone
and he had one bloodshot eye,
and he had one bloodshot eye,
He had no laces in his boots
and no buttons on his fly.
and no buttons on his fly.
His pants hung loosely round his hips,
hitched by a piece of wire,
hitched by a piece of wire,
And they concertinaed round his boots,
in a way that you'd admire.
in a way that you'd admire.
Well he stuck the billy on the boil
and then emptied out his pipe,
and then emptied out his pipe,
And with his greasy shirt sleeve,
he gave his nose a wipe.
he gave his nose a wipe.
And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod
and a drip hung from his chin,
and a drip hung from his chin,
As he mixed the damper up,
the drip kept dripping in.
the drip kept dripping in.
I walked quietly over to him
and I said "toss that mixture out,
and I said "toss that mixture out,
And in future when you're working
keep your pipe out of your mouth".
keep your pipe out of your mouth".
Ooh he stood erect and eyed me,
with such a dirty look,
with such a dirty look,
And he said in choice Australian,
"Get another bloody cook".
"Get another bloody cook".
~
Another night, another meal. What to do? Really just not in the mood. Avocado on toast. Omelette. Heinz Big and Chunky Butter Chicken. Sorry Bill, Stephanie. Just can't look another ingredient or kitchen utensil in the eye.
Poem by Thomas John Quilty
Illustration by Quentin Blake
