ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

If you’ve never squelched your way through the mud that defines much of our river bank and bayside waterfronts, then you’ve missed a unique experience. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but definitely different. I did it once and as a result I’m in awe of those hearty fishermen who dig their own worms. I’m happy to pay for mine.


Bloody Good Fun

The sandflies were about as thick as peanut paste on bread,
with kamikaze mozzies in their millions, overhead.
The mud was heavy, black as tar. It stone-walled every turn
in single minded quest to find that prized Cribb Island worm.

I said I’d be the bucket boy ‘cause Bluey had the fork.
“We must be mad.” he muttered. “I can hardly bloody walk.
This flamin’ mud’s almost as thick as Robbo’s rabbit stew
It’s got a better bloody grip than Selley’s Super Glue.”

“Calm down.” I said “Stop whingin’. Here this looks a likely spot.
And Bluey, you’ve got first dig mate so give it all you’ve got.”
He pushed the tines deep in the mud. Leaned hard to give them weight.
The handle snapped and ……. there ya go. Poor Bluey’s on his date.

“That’s it!” He yelled. “I’m outta here.” He turned at breakneck pace.
But feet refused to follow. Down he went … this time full face.
“Aah bugger me.” he cried. “I quit! It’s ‘white flag’ time. I’m done.
I never thought that wormin’ could be so much bloody fun.”

Wazza

were they savage worms you were digging for? - You could both have been monstered

Enjoyed the read - good fun, the reading not the digging

Cheers

Maureen

Thanks Maureen. Actually they do have a couple of small pincers at the head that come into play when the hook goes in. Can't blame them for that. Not much of a future. First there's a home invasion, then some insensitive bugger shoves a hook into them, and finally they get eaten. Definitely don't want to come back as a blood worm.
Cheers ... Wazza