|
I was moving down Smith Street on a Satiddy night, When I spotted a fellow moving out of the light, As I moved in a little closer I felt my heart pump, Cos on the back of this bloke was a fair-dinkum hump. |
|
He had one eye shut and the other one open, His left arm limp while his other had a rope in I said, "how are yah goin'?" He just let out a moan, And believe me when I say I think the mans hump'd grown. |
|
I looked down at my feet saying, 'Feet, do your duty' Then worked on puttin' miles between me and "Mt.Beauty". I covered the first mile in just under a minute But he was just there behind me folks, there wasn't much in it. |
|
So I split down a side street and headed into the park Thinking that he wouldn't see me in the dark Then I stopped for a leak near a big leafy oak But I swear I near coonied when his raspy voice spoke |
|
He was jumpin' up and down like an oversized dodo Sayin' "Why you run away from ol' Quasimodo?" I said "Shouldn't you be somewhere swingin' on a rope?" He answered me by sayin' he was out to score dope. |
|
"Smoke yourself", I muttered softly under my breath When I looked up I was starin' in the cold face of death. He snarled "What'd you say?" I said, "Have summa mine, I picked it up this evening, sort of fresh off the vine." |
|
His whole face twisted, resembling a grin With rivers of spittle streamin' down his chin. Instead of smokin' the gnarndie he snorted it whole Sayin', "Aah! That's good, must be Lebanese Gold!" |
|
Then philosophically added,"There's all kinds of Hells, But when I'm tokin' good gear I never hear any bells. I know I'm stunted and bent, and not real pretty, But the last thing I need, is a blackfella's pity. |
|
You can't know a book just by reading its cover And let me tell you, inside I'm a passionate lover. I've been loved by women, and I've been rejected But I never let that get me down or dejected |
|
I control my emotions and I treat women nice So relax while I lay on you some friendly advice. You can hump 'em high, and you can hump 'em low, You can hump 'em fast, or hump 'em real slow, |
|
And you can hump 'em in the morning or hump 'em at night, But always make certain that you're treatin' em right. Play all your hunches, sing 'em songs, write 'em odes, But never forget the words of old Quasimodes." |
|
Then he swung into a tree and blew a tune on his horn, And in less than a minute, Quasimodo had gone! |
|
Dithy Rambist 17/6/94 |
| Return to Poetry Page |