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Australia

Oh, a picture speaks a thousand words (especially those involving singlets).
 
Well, I'd be tickled pink, but everybody else might not share my views on the mighty Wolverine.
 
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've created 400 of the 1000 posts in this thread, and I don't recall having actually consulted anyone to ascertain their preferences.

Some people might interpret that as me saying "I'll post whatever I like", and I'd be inclined to call that a pretty good translation.

And since I also happen to think that Hugh and Wolverine are both awesome, you may look forward to a good tickling.


:)


PS Nyaah, boo, hiss to any objectors.
 
Hugh (hunka hunka) Jackman was being interviewed over here on some late night talk show. After he made his entry, and the audience settled down. A lone voice from somewhere in the back screams

Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi

I swear Jackman somehow managed to smile so wide you could see his wisdom teeth lol
 
Shy, retiring little flowers, we Aussies.

Not!


:)

Well I have found Australians over here just seem to be able to find each other. An Aussie kid from Brisbane was playing last summer in the local baseball team.

I went down to watch. First time he handled the ball - I ripped an Aussie Aussie for him - Kid was so homesick I thought he was gonna cry.

After the game I had a chat with him for a while - when we were finished. My wife asked me. Do Australians have some secret language they dont tell the rest of the world about.

I said I could answer that, but would have to kill her as soon as I did :rolleyes:
 
HOW M'DOUGAL TOPPED THE SCORE by Thomas E. Spencer (1845 - 1911)

A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!


Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
A single-innings match for lunch - the losing team to pay.
We were not great guns at cricket, but we couldn't well say, "No!"
So we all began to practise, and we let the reaping go.
We scoured the Flat for ten miles round to muster up our men,
But when the list was totalled we could only number ten.
Then up spoke big Tim Brady: he was always slow to speak,
And he said - "What price M'Dougal, who lives down at Cooper's Creek?"


So we sent for old M'Dougal, and he stated in reply
That he'd never played at cricket, but he'd half a mind to try.
He couldn't come to practise - he was getting in his hay,
But he guessed he'd show the beggars from Molongo how to play.
Now, M'Dougal was a Scotchman, and a canny one at that,
So he started in to practise with a pailing for a bat.
He got Mrs Mac. to bowl him, but she couldn't run at all,
So he trained is sheep-dog, Pincher, how to scout and fetch the ball.


Now, Pincher was no puppy; he was old, and worn, and grey;
But he understood M'Dougal, and - accustomed to obey -
When M'Dougal cried out "Fetch it!" he would fetch it in a trice,
But, until the word was "Drop it!" he would grip it like a vice.
And each succeeding night they played until the light grew dim:
Sometimes M'Dougal struck the ball - and sometimes the ball struck him!
Each time he struck, the ball would plough a furrow in the ground,
And when he missed the impetus would turn him three times round.


The fatal day at length arrived - the day that was to see
Molongo bite the dust, or Piper's Flat knocked up a tree!
Molongo's captain won the toss, and sent his men to bat,
And they gave some leather-hunting to the men from Piper's Flat.
When the ball sped where M'Dougal stood, firm planted in his track,
He shut his eyes, and turned him round, and stopped it - with his back!
The highest score was twenty-two, the total sixty-six,
When Brady sent a yorker down which scattered Johnson's sticks.


Then Piper's Flat went in to bat, for glory and renown,
But, like the grass before the scythe, our wickets tumbled down.
"Nine wickets down for seventeen, with fifty more to win!"
Our captain heaved a heavy sigh, and sent M'Dougal in.
"Ten pounds to one you'll lose it!" cried a barracker from town;
But M'Dougal said "I'll tak' it mon!" and planked the money down.
Then he girded up his moleskins in a self-reliant style,
Threw off his hat and boots, and faced the bowler with a smile.


He held the bat the wrong side out, and Johnson with a grin
Stepped lightly to the bowling crease, and sent a "wobbler" in;
M'Dougal spooned it softly back, and Johnson waited there,
But M'Dougal, crying "Fetch it!" started running like a hare.
Molongo shouted "Victory! He's out as sure as eggs,"
When Pinched started through the crowd, and ran through Johnson's legs.
He seized the ball like lightning; then he ran behind a log,
An M'Dougal kept on running, while Molongo chased the dog!


They chased him up, they chased him down, they chased him round, and then
He darted through a slip-rail as the scorer shouted "Ten!"
M'Dougal puffed; Molongo swore; excitement was intense;
As the scorer marked down twenty, Pincher cleared a barbed-wire fence.
"Let us head him!" shrieked Molongo. "Brain the mongrel with a bat!"
"Run it out! Good old M'Dougal!" yelled the men of Piper's Flat.
And M'Dougal kept on jogging, and then Pincher doubled back,
And the scorer counted "Forty" as they raced across the track.


M'Dougal's legs were going fast, Molongo's breath was gone -
But still Molongo chased the dog - M'Dougal struggled on.
When the scorer shouted "Fifty" then they knew the chase would cease;
And M'Dougal gasped out "Drop it!" as he dropped within his crease.
Then Pincher dropped the ball, and as instinctively he knew
Discretion was the wiser plan, he disappeared from view;
And as Molongo's beaten men exhausted lay around
We raised M'Dougal shoulder high, and bore him from the ground.


We bore him to M'Ginniss's, where lunch was ready laid,
And filled him up with whisky-punch, for which Molongo paid.
We drank his health in bumpers, and we cheered him three times three,
And when Molongo got its breath, Molongo joined the spree.
And the critics say they never saw a cricket match like that,
When M'Dougal broke the record in the game at Piper's Flat;
And the folks were jubilating as they never did before;
For we played Molongo cricket - and M'Dougal topped the score!
 
G'day daf. Thinkin' about emigrating Mate?

That's a cool poem, so thanks for posting it.

Do you know 'The Man from Iron Bark'? sing out if you'd like me to post it.


Cheers,


Aussie Daf.

:)
 
Well I have found Australians over here just seem to be able to find each other. An Aussie kid from Brisbane was playing last summer in the local baseball team.

I went down to watch. First time he handled the ball - I ripped an Aussie Aussie for him - Kid was so homesick I thought he was gonna cry.

After the game I had a chat with him for a while - when we were finished. My wife asked me. Do Australians have some secret language they dont tell the rest of the world about.

I said I could answer that, but would have to kill her as soon as I did :rolleyes:


Secret language? Fancy comin' the raw prawn like that. Stone the bloody crows, I've never 'eard such malarky.
 
One day I strolled down Earls Court Road,
And into a pub I was lured,
"Where do you come from?" says a nosey Pom,
As I downed the amber fluid.
So I told him straight, "I'm Australian mate,
"And I feel like getting plastered,
But the beer here's crook,
And the girls all look,
Like you, you pommy bastard"!
 
G'day daf. Thinkin' about emigrating Mate?

That's a cool poem, so thanks for posting it.

Do you know 'The Man from Iron Bark'? sing out if you'd like me to post it.


Cheers,


Aussie Daf.

:)

I don't know that one,post it please.
 
Not very pc nowadays.

BALLINA WHALERS written by Harry Robertson

Fifty six I sailed aboard
A ship called Byron One
She's carried trawler men on deck
And a harpoon whaling gun

Chorus:
Oh you trawlermen, come on
Forget your snapper and your prawn
For it's out of Ballina we'll sail
Fishing for the humpback whale

A tractor for a whale winch
And the ship's an all fair mile
Twin diesels turn the screws around
She'll whale in a fine old style


Keep a sharp look-out my lads
The whale he's on the run
And we'll drive him into Byron Bay
And we'll shoot him with our gun


The harpoon and the line fly through
Very deep into the whale
She split the timbers of the ship
With a flurry of her tail


The rugging struts are snapped in two
We reel beneath the blow
The gunner fires a killer shot
And that humpback's sent below

Make the tail fast to the bows
We got no more time for bed
For four and twenty hours each day
We kept that factory fed


The friends and men upon the land
Some had been Jackaroos
They skin the blubber from the whales
Like they were skinning kangaroos


A hundred whales and then fifty more
Through the factory we did send
And then the orders came - knock off me lads
Your season's at an end

Back in to Ballina we steered
Tied up and stowed the gear
All hands headed for the pub
And we filled ourselves with beer

Here is some one singing it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_wK9ZK3XDM
 
A Yowie?

There’s Only The Two Of Us Here Edward Harrington



I camped one night in an empty hut on the side of a lonely hill.

I didn’t go much on empty huts, but the night was awful chill.

So I boiled me billy and had me tea and seen that the door was shut.

Then I went to bed in am empty bunk by the side of the old slab shed.



It must have been about twelve o’clock – I was feeling cosy and warm –

When at the foot of me bunk I sees a horrible ghostly form

It seemed in shape to be half an ape with a head like a chimpanzee

But wot the hell was it doin there, and wot did it want with me?



You may say if you please that I had DTs or call me a crimson liar,

But I wish you had seen it as plain as me, with it’s eyes like coals of fire.

Then it gave a moan and a horrible groan that curdled me blood with fear,

And ‘There’s only the two of us here,’ it ses. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’



I kept one eye on the old hut door and one on the awful brute;

I only wanted to dress meself and get to the door and scoot.

But I couldn’t find where I’d left me boots so I hadn’t a chance to clear

And, ‘There’s only the two of us here,’ it moans. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’



I hadn’t a thing to defend meself, not even a stick or stone,

And ‘There’s only the two of here!’ It ses again with a horrible groan.

I thought I’d better make some reply, though I reckoned me end was near,

‘By the Holy Smoke, when I find me boots, there’ll be only one of us here.’



I get me hands on me number tens and out through the door I scoots,

And I lit the whole of the ridges up with the sparks from me blucher boots.

So I’ve never slept in a hut since then, and I tremble and shake with fear

When I think of the horrible form wot moaned, ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
 
I always like this line from that song

Johnny Turk he was waiting, he'd primed himself well. He shower'd us with bullets,
And he rained us with shell. And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.


No bitterness no hatred. It was a horrible situation. The Turks suffered just as much as we did fighting a war, neither of us understood.

Perhaps best summed up by this astoundingly simple but beautiful inscription on a Turkish war memorial

"Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives... you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets where they lie side by side here in this country of ours... You the mothers who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. Having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well."

I always get something in my eye when I read this
 

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