This poem drew a poetic reply from Julie Percy of Yalleen station to which I replied ........... to which Julie replied and so on ......... the five poems that stemmed from Greg Pearce's innocent suggestion are all below. Thanks Julie for your contribution.
Are you Blokes doing your Bit?
Me and the missus were out fixin’ a fence, when she give a weary look,
So I told her to knock off, anyway, it’s time to cook.
Said “I wouldn’t mind a T.V. dinner, so I can watch the footy match.
Oh, an’ me backs a little itchy, would yer mind givin’ it a scratch?”
Well she give me a dirty look, mumbled something I couldn’t hear,
So I told her to stock the fridge ‘cos I was nearly outta beer.
She then stormed off growlin’; I think she’s in a huff,
I dunno what’s wrong with her lately, she’s runnin’ outta puff.
When I got home I told her; tomorrow we’ll start seedin’,
An’ I noticed on the way in, the vegie garden needs weedin’.
I got another dirty look, so I went to see a mate,
Saying as I left, “I hope me tea aint late.”
As I went out the door, I seen the lawn needed mowin’,
I’d have to get her on to it, when we finish sowin’.
Well I got me T.V. dinner, an’ I got a beer to drink,
Then I even put me own dishes in the flamin sink.
“I can’t help you to wash up, the second half’s about to start,
But I’ll you what I wouldn’t mind dear, a bit more jam tart.”
Then as I sat down I noticed, the floor was getting dirty,
But when I mentioned it, my god she did get shirty.
The footy wasn’t over when she said she was going to bed,
Reckoned she was out on her feet, feeling almost dead.
So I said “I’ll need an early breakfast ‘cos the tractors still apart,
And I need some clean clothes, so the washing you can start.
An’ you best light the fire ‘cos it’ll be cold when I arise.
What’s the matter darlin’ is that a tear in your eyes?
An’ I suppose it’s no use askin’ for my conjugal right,
You know I could be feelin’ buggered by tomorrer night.
An’ what’s with the hysterical laughter, do you think it all a joke?
Just remember sweet-heart I’m a normal type of bloke.”
© Corin Linch 28/5/04
In response to ‘Are you Bloke’s doing your Bit?’
Well I read Corin’s poem about blokes doing their bit,
When a lump formed in my throat and I choked and I spit.
I broke out in a sweat and my temperature rose.
I broke out in a sweat and my temperature rose.
I mean usually I’m a fan of Corin’s poetic prose.
But doing your bit….well by crikey I was left in no doubt.
Doing’ Jack Sh_t was what I wanted to shout.
But I continued my reading while gasping for air,
“Is this bloke for real? I mean how could he dare?”
Fair dinkum, something’s a miss, I mean can’t this bloke read all the signs.
Those chauvinistic actions…… WILL surely set off the lions.
The growling and scowling means he’s no doubt in strife.
Something’s OBVIOUSLY bothering his long suffering wife!
As a modern bush woman, well I’ll pull my weight,
But these words made me halt…does he think he’s pleasing his mate?
I mean what makes him think when she’s been sharing the load,
That his wife needs to keep working while he’s in ‘knock-off” mode?
I took time to ponder and wiped off my brow.
That sort of behavior ought-a cause a huge row!
When he comes home from working he should grab his own bloody beer.
Offer a hand and by that I don’t mean grabbing her rear!
When I got to the bit about conjugal right,
Well I lost my composure……it WAS quite a sight!
It caused me to mumble what I just can’t repeat,
I went weak in the knees and fell back in my seat.
I took a deep breath as I was feeling somewhat forlorn.
A wife should be a mate not a slave to all men born!
So come on blokes do your bit and treat your wife like a treasure.
Lift your game and she’ll assure you it will be for your pleasure!!
A RESPONSE to a RESPONSE
You know I wrote this poem, on how us blokes like to do our bit,
But for some reason I don’t know why, some ladies seemed to throw a fit.
And Julie Percy, she got up in arms; she seemed to take these words to heart,
I’d never have wrote the bloody thing if I’d known all these poetic responses were gunna to start.
I thought that I was honest when I said us blokes would like to do a little more,
But when we come in from the paddock we are often feeling a little sore.
And we just wanna to put our feet up, have a feed and a nice cold beer,
And hope we’ve come home to a happy woman who’s bright always full of cheer.
It was you women who asked the question `Are you blokes doing your bit? `
Just because I answered in the affirmative is no reason to throw a hissy fit.
You asked the question and now I’ve answered you go and get offended,
So perhaps if I done some damage it’s time some fence got mended.
Well I figure I said nothing, to which you ladies might take offence,
I pointed out what us blokes do; you know it’s only common sense.
So now it looks like I’m really gunna upset you, an’ I’m gunna have to ask,
Aren’t you here to look after the menfolk, now is that not that a woman’s task?
I mean I know you do the washing and I know you cook a feed,
And I must admit you’ve always been there in our hour of need.
And I know you do the gardening and sometimes you mow the lawn,
And I’ll have to admit you have to be there when the kids are born.
And I know you change the nappies and the midnight feeds you did,
But c’mon mate us blokes pull our weight, who you think I’m trying to kid?
You know some of them things you responded to left me gasping for air,
Was this women suggesting laziness, surely she wouldn’t blooming dare.
In my first poem I thought I was simply pointing out a fact,
You know I aint a diplomat so don’t be surprised at the lack of tact.
You said something about grabbing your rear and going weak at the knees,
Then you refuse us our conjugal rights, oh darlin’ you are a tease.
You tell me there’ll be no conjugal rights; does that mean I cannot fornicate?
Well you leave me no option but to go out drinking with me mate.
To be honest I don’t even know what that word conjugal really means.
Is it the way a woman, seductively removes her jeans?
Or does it mean I can leave the seat up after I’ve had a pee?
And if I leave that seat up you won’t go crook at me?
Now Julie I’ve sat at your table and I’ve dined on real good fare,
And after I’ve pigged out on your desserts well I’ve never had room to spare.
But come one let’s be honest, you’ve got to give us blokes a go,
After all a lot of what we do is just a male ego show.
And you must allow us to have our fantasies of the women in our life,
Don’t you know that us poor blokes are always in female strife?
And dinkum Jules I was only kidding with some of them things I wrote,
They were never supposed to be taken to heart; I didn’t mean to rock the boat.
If I’m as bad as you make me out to be I really am in strife,
You got me worried now I aint even game to ask me wife.
I suppose by responding to your response I may as well piddle into the breeze,
I could ask you to accept an apology; I could even get down on my knees,
But I know that as a woman you must have the last say,
So I’ll expect another response, which could be here any day.
© Corin Linch 31/7/06
The Final Say
( In Response to the Response to the Response!)
Well Corin, your apology is accepted
We can lay this debate to rest.
With your response to my response,
With your response to my response,
That was really said in jest.
Though I’m sure you expected a reaction,
From the original words that you wrote.
I mean you weren’t exactly aiming
For the feminine ‘sympathetic’ vote!
But by gees we sparked the embers though
And put a cat amongst the birds.
It even started getting graphic,
Those descriptive phrases that you put into words.
You were right about one thing though
In that woman need the final say.
But when menfolk don’t ‘Do Their Bit”
Is there REALLY any other way?
I think it was all pretty funny
A reaction that was a so called ‘ Hissey Fit”
Truth is I know I’m right with the bloke I’ve got
‘cause he often ‘Does His Bit’.
And I’m sure you have the ability Corin to do ‘Your Bit’ as well,
‘cause I know Deb wouldn’t allow it to be QUITE like you tell !
Now you have always been welcome at my table
As long as you keep ‘Doing Your Bit’
Just remember that at the head of the table,
Is where all good women should sit!!!!
The FINAL SAY? I DON”T THINK SO
Now listen Julie Percy “Don’t you think this poetic dueling rather silly?”
I thought Michael had you trained, I thought you a tractable little filly.
`The Final Say` Did you really think that was the last word?
To think I’d give in that easily is really quite absurd.
I am thankful you accepted my apologies, I’m glad this debate can be put to rest,
Although I’m disappointed it took you so long to understand that what I said was all in jest.
But that’s okay because I know you were flat out caring for a bloke that does his bit,
And I know a lady like you would never throw a hissy fit.
But you best be mighty careful because memories MIGHT come flooding back to me,
About that little story, you were telling the other night at tea.
But I do believe that story I promised I would not tell,
And I cannot break a promise for I do not want to go to Hell.
Julie, Deb would be the first to tell you round the house I’m very slack,
Like a race horse broken down out there on the track.
And I suppose that I had better admit it, I don’t always pull my weight,
Well actually I leave the house work to my spousal mate.
I mean us blokes have to use a bit of subterfuge when it comes to Doing our Bit,
Because we are only trying to avoid the circumstances that cause a Hissy fit.
So at last Julie I’m being honest, the sordid truth can now be heard,
I really am ashamed of myself, so now, can I please have the FINAL WORD?
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