ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

it probably works on all flowers Bill not just the ones from Collie

Bill, you reminded me.

A few years ago, I was walking the dog along the road past the dairy farms, it was getting dark and I heard the fencing wire make a sort of twanging sound.
Didn't see anything in the dark.
Later I found out that an enormous and very cranky Bahman bull had escaped from the nearby rodeo, he had jumped the fence crossed the road in front of me and jumped into the dairy farm... I believe had a romantic evening with some of the Fresian maidens.
Good thing he didn't spot me and the dog or I would have had to jump the fence. or dive under it more likely.

Ya know what ya Mum told ya Bill, ya gotta eat ya vegies they are good for ya an’ that’s no Bull.

My granddaughters asked me “If Nanna was a flower, what kind would she be?” I told them “She is my Collie Flower.” An’ ya don’t want to know what come next.


TTFN

HEY DAVE when do you get out of hospital and what sort of injuries did she give you

bill the old b

was it saucy Dave? Of course we want to know what came next - what are you thinking.

Hey Bill have you ever read Banjo's poem:

BUFFALO COUNTRY by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

Out where the grey streams glide,
Sullen and deep and slow,
And the alligators slide
From the mud to the depths below
Or drift on the stream like a floating death,
Where the fever comes on the south wind's breath,
There is the buffalo.

Out on the big lagoons,
Where the Regia lilies float,
And the Nankin heron croons
With a deep ill-omened note,
In the ooze and the mud of the swamps below
Lazily wallows the buffalo,
Buried to nose and throat.

From the hunter's gun he hides
In the jungles dark and damp,
Where the slinking dingo glides
And the flying foxes camp;
Hanging like myriad fiends in line
Where the trailing creepers twist and twine
And the sun is a sluggish lamp.

On the edge of the rolling plains
Where the coarse cane grasses swell,
Lush with the tropic rains
In the noontide's drowsy spell,
Slowly the buffalo grazes through
Where the brolgas dance, and the jabiru
Stands like a sentinel.

All that the world can know
Of the wild and the weird is here,
Where the black men come and go
With their boomerang and spear,
And the wild duck darken the evening sky
As they fly to their nests in the reed beds high
When the tropic night is near.

No Vic. That is the first time I have seen it. It has a number of similarities to the area that I was in.
I wonder what area he is writing about thanks mate

Bill the old battler