Why Dot Won't Leave The Farm

[thestoryteller]

WHY DOT WON’T LEAVE THE FARM

Dot Blogs she was a buxom lass and hefty heifer too
who married Bobby Eugene Blows when she was twenty- two.
They lived upon a dairy farm alongside Boggy Creek
and milked a hundred fresian cows … yes seven days a week.

Now Dotty took to motherhood and had some eighteen kids
and Bobby too was very fond of all his billy lids.
Though life was using hand me downs from hats to underwear,
it taught them old school values; like the gift of how to share.

Dot seldom ventured from the place and trips to town were rare
as she’d become content with life and simple country fare.
But Bob in a romantic mood, applied his boyish charm
and thought he’d hit the city and get Dotty off the farm.

Their anniversary was due and Bob now thought it time
to hit the big smoke for a change were they could wine and dine.
Well Dot had dressed up to the nines and looked a proper treat,
but how to fit her in the ute had poor Rob kind of beat.

Poor Dot was three axe handles when one measured ’cross her rump
and putting things politely she was rather flamin’ plump.
But Dot she was a country girl and just jumped in the back
and soon both her and husband Rob were heading down the track.

The cities razzle dazzle blew both Dot and Rob away
and headed for the classy place where they were gonna stay.
But when Dot hit the doorway well she then ran out of luck,
as she was jammed there tightly and evidently stuck.

The chaps behind the service desk and three bell boys as well
they tried to push poor Dotty free but Robby knew darn well
that Dottie’s hefty hips were simply wedged in there too tight
and going out to wine and dine was now in doubt that night.

Just then a bell boy cried out loud, “I have a plan for sure.
I’ll grab the local rugby team that’s dining right next door.”
The forwards packed behind poor Dot and gave it all they had,
but all they did was stir her up and she was getting mad.

Then Rob remembered once back home how Bert the bull was jammed
real tight inside the race they had and how they fin’lly planned
to rub his hips with lots of grease and on the count of three
they’d hit him with a jigger and you’re right … he busted free.

The Motel staff then whipped around and searched each patron’s bag
and grabbed all sorts of greasy stuff their little hands could snag.
Rob rubbed old Dottie’s hips all down and laid it on real thick,
then grabbed the night guards stun gun; it was sure to do the trick.

Poor Dot she kicked and bellowed when the voltage hit her hide
and man she cut some capers and she went all goggle eyed.
She snorted and she struggled like some poor wild frightened beast,
but just like Bert, Rob did admit, she busted free at least.

Now Dot is back at Boggy Creek and though poor Rob tries hard
she won’t budge from the Dairy farm; she just won’t budge a yard.
Poor Rob now does the shopping and the thing he finds bizarre
is massaging Dot ev’ry night where two prongs left a scar.

©Bush Poet and Balladeer Merv Webster

[Heather]

Thanks Merv, I thoroughly enjoyed this rollick. Got my day off to a good start!

Heather

[thestoryteller]

When Dot first read it she threw a cow pat at me and called me a ratbag and then gave me one of her big hugs. She doesn't mind you laughing with her but not at her.

I needed a new performance poem and hope this will fit the bill. Thanks for sharing.

The Storyteller.

[Heather]

Well I'd love to hear it recited Merv. It would be a hoot.

Keep 'em coming.

[Trisha Patterson]

Good one Merv!
Trisha

[Jasper Brush]

G'day Merv.

Ripper of a farm yarn.

Very good beat to boot.


John

[thestoryteller]

G'day John.

Thanks for sharing Dot's little excursion mate.


The Storyteller.

[warooa]

Loved that one Merv, should go down a treat at a show. Goodonya.

Cheers, Marty

[thestoryteller]

G'day Marty,

We were down south last year performing at the Rosewood Country Roundup [near Tumbarumba]and had a few days with a couple we knew and Col was telling me about a bull he had that got stuck in the race and how after trying all different persuasions they finally greased him down and hit him with a jigger. Didn't do much for the race but he did get free.

So the old imagination went to work and voila. Thanks for sharing it mate.



The Storyteller.