© Brenda Joy, 2010

Winner 2011, ABPA, New South Wales Championship – Best Humorous, Dunedoo; Man from Snowy River Festival, Larrikin Award, Corryong, Victoria.

I live out west of Jul’ya Creek where life is hard and tough.
To ride a horse or rope a steer – I’m ready right enough,
but once me son went off to live across the sea in Spain,
it meant to go and visit him I’d have to catch a plane.

I felt some trepidation ‘cos I’d never flown before
and never would’ve tried to if I’d known what was in store.
To get meself to Townsville City took a bloomin’ week.
I’d borrowed Ned, the only horse still left in Jul’ya Creek.

Shenanigans in city traffic put me in a state.
I scoffed down Rum and Valium outside the boardin’ gate.
But there I met me Waterloo, pre-flight security.
Machines and walk through screens were set to test me purity.

At first them city slickers griped about me dilly bag.
I’d read about them weeds they’d planted in some sheila’s swag.
To stop them gardenin’ in mine, I’d bound it up with wires,
But struth!  Them blighters hacked ’em off with heavy duty pliers!

They put me through some X-ray check, that’s when I lost me cool.
It lit up like a Christmas tree; I really felt a fool.
They called me back and asked me to remove me metal rings,
me buckles, brasses, bits ’n bobs, me spurs and dangly things…

…castratin’ knife, me brandin’ iron, me length of trusty chain.
No matter what I cast aside it seemed to be in vain.
Bereft of all necessities they sent me through once more,
but that insistent screen machine was louder than before.

By now I’d beeped so many times that I had drawn a crowd
all anxious and impatient.  Blimey!  They were gettin’ loud!
They feared they’d miss their bloomin’ flight , me plight had caused delay,
they couldn’t get through checks ’cos Ned’s old saddle blocked their way.

They called this Chief Controller bloke to see what he would do.
I got the full ‘once over’ whilst he struggled for a clue.
He eyed me body closely plannin’ what he could exclude.
Solutions posed were tough and his suggestions rather rude.

Perhaps the beep was comin’ from the cable round me drawers?
I yanked that out – down dropped me pants – and I got loud applause.
Perhaps the under-wirin’ in me bra should go as well!
Reluctantly I pulled it out – then down me ‘boosies’ fell.

But now me naked midriff had revealed a naval ring!
The Chief Controller was convinced the beep was from that thing.
He thought it best to take it out – the watchin’ crowd approved –
so with those fencing cutters it was surgic’lly removed.

Delighted at his crude success he tackled both me ears
removin’ studs.  By now I was a mess of blood and tears.
He sliced me lip-ring with a blade – me nasal one as well –
I felt like I’d encountered Chief Controller straight from hell.

He finally concluded that the cause was in me knees –
they both had been refurbished – but at length he heard me pleas
to save them from his sawing blade; with sneers he let me past.
Though minus all adorning charms, I’d catch that plane at last.

But then this sheila keen to do some terroristic check
was set on singlin’ poor me out.  By now I was a wreck.
Although exposed explosives would’ve blown to hell by now,
past scrutiny was not enough for this tenacious cow.

And plus her massive, nosy dog was sniffin’’round me feet
and pokin’ in me dilly bag in search of stuff to eat.
I reckon they should feed their pets not make ’em have to beg –
‘I’ll charge ya for me laundry if he starts to cock ’is leg.’

Embarrassed, mutilated, with me dignity near gone
by now I’d had enough of all their bloomin’ carry on.
They’d run me roughshod over, I’d been treated with disdain,
but thanks to Valium and Rum, me spirit took free-rein.

She wanted to inspect me all, well I’d just let it rip.
To keep this ‘Bossy Britches’ quiet, I’d completely strip.
I tore off all remaining garments, flung them on the floor,
and in that crowded airport lounge I stood there in the raw.

As youngsters gaped – they’d never seen someone so old undressed –
the fed’ral police arrived to put me under house arrest.
I mustered me resources, thumbed me nose at passers-by.
They dragged me naked body out; I held me head up high.

They took me to a lock-up where they kept me overnight
I caught a cold, became a crim. and missed me maiden flight.
That Townsville mob had bucked me off but I made them aware –
a bumpkin pushed to limits will find something to declare.

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