HIT THE ROAD JACK

[Maureen K Clifford]

HIT THE ROAD JACK



He was known for thieving anything not nailed or tied down.
You put padlocks on the gate and front door when you went to town.
You always left the biggest dog running loose in the yard
and you checked the drive for tyre tracks – made sure you looked real hard.
As a neighbour he was surly – never smiled or said G’day.
Was he always like that? Or had he just became that way
because most folks there couldn’t stand him – he was so quick to abuse
any one who wouldn’t lend stuff – but their kindnesses he’d ill used.

He had no power or water up there on his hillside lair.
At night he’d drive his milk tanker to town and fill it there
from the councils big water tank – they charged him not a fee
for they knew not that he stole it – or that to their yard he’d a key.
A mile or so from his place but accessed from the same road
stood a hunting lodge, converted to a city blokes abode
for weekend relaxation, and the odd holiday each year
and his generator was kept in a padlocked shed quite near.

This bloke he was a doctor and his wife she was one too,
they both resided in Brisbane, liked bush walking, and the view
from the verandah of their country place overlooking Sundown Park.
They could sit and watch the deer emerge to water just on dark.
We’d many times shared supper all cooked on an open fire.
We’d take thick soup, they’d bring salmon, a neighbour took Peach pie
with fresh cream from her Guernsey – oh we all ate very well.
Warmed by the log fire burning; and the company was swell.

But one weekend they came to us with faces creased with worry.
The generator it was gone – and they were in a flurry
for they had no way to light the place – no torch or lamps at all
but they couldn’t help but notice Jacks place - bright lit overall.
We all knew Jack ran Kero lamps that gave a yellow glow
which were dim and didn’t show the dirt and cobwebs there on show.
Of excavations or new power poles there was not a trace,
the conclusion was the missing Genny must be at his place.

Not worthwhile to confront him – he was such a nasty bloke
We knew he grew Mary Jane, for his wacky baccy smoke.
Best just to call the law in and let them loose investigating
rather than upset Hydraulic and cause sudden annihilating.
Not too long after this furore Jack decided to move.
The generator not returned – and nothing could we prove
for the local cops were somewhat slow in visiting with him,
we suspect the goods were moved – Jacks lights were once more dim.

Jack finally left the district and we all sighed in relief
but felt sorry for the new folks who’d be living near this thief.
We heard he moved near Inglewood , to the outskirts of town.
It seems they had a crime wave .... figure Jack has been around.
Another thing was noted out here every time it rained
and the creek flooded - a new weed flourished. Rather strange.
Dark green and with five fingered leaves, it sprung up all about.
Just another bloody job to do – spent hours grubbing it out.


Maureen Clifford 01/11 ©

[Vic Jefferies]

Is that where my ex neighbour moved to?
Good poem Maureen!

Vic Jefferies

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Vic - I reckon there are probably a few Hydraulics that lift anything around the countryside - a bit of an upsurge when the cyclones and floods came to town. Maybe they're breeding.

Cheers

Maureen

[Heather]

Good poem Maureen. I have a friend with a holiday home in Tasmania and she has a neighbour like that. He tells her he "keeps an eye on the place" for her. She's had trailers, timber and all sorts of things go missing from her shed.

Just one suggestion. In the first stanza not sure if he was like that naturally or just that way To my mind you've said the same thing twice in a different way.

what about not sure if he was like that naturally or became that way

Heather

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Heather good point...I have used your suggestion...Ta muchly

Maureen