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Old Jacko in the City
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Australian Bush Poetry
ballads balladeer bush ballads bush poetry merv webster
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Australian Bush Poet and Balladeer
The particular style of music I enjoy playing is The Australian Bush Ballad pick and strum style championed by Slim Dusty and Stan Coster. The ballad style of lyrics shares the culture and the characters of my country. I am a member of the Australian Bush Balladeers. http://bushballadeers.com.au/bushpoet.htm I am also a bush Poet and a member of The Australian Bush Poets Association who define bush poetry as rhyming verse with regular metre and true rhyme about Australia, its people, places, things and way of life. http://www.abpa.org.au/
Song Info
Genre
Podcasts Poetry
Charts
Peak #29
Peak in subgenre #7
Author
Merv Webster
Rights
Merv Webster
Uploaded
April 04, 2008
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.6 MB 128 kbps 5:01
Story behind the song
After seeing what some Asians sell in their market place to some Restaurants I let the old imagination run and told Jacko's tale.
Lyrics
OLD JACKO IN THE CITY Old Jacko was a bushman who lived out the back of Bourke, a Ringer who for sixty years knew nothing but hard work. Big Mal, his boss, said, “Jacko mate you’re skinny as a rake, so slip down to the city man and have a flamin’ break!” The old bloke wasn’t all that fussed, but Mal said, “No buts, son. You take your swag and old Blue too and have a bit of fun.” The city’s razzle dazzle really blew old Jacko’s mind and Blue marked every light pole in Kings Cross that he could find. Some druggo asked the ringer if he’d like to score a hit, so Jacko decked him on the spot. He didn’t mind a bit. A scrawny, scabby tabby then appeared from out a drain which sent the old blue cattle dog completely off his brain. Blue followed Jacko’s precedent and took the moggy out and both were feeling mighty good. They didn’t mind a bout. They wandered down the street a way and walked into a bar, where Jacko thought the blokes all dressed a little bit bizarre. Then as he knocked a schooner down he asked this chap how come some blokes were slipping other blokes a rather tidy sum. “You silly great big sausage dear. We’re gay here, can’t you tell.” “Who wouldn’t be?” grinned Jacko, “I’d be rather chuffed as well.” The worms were biting by this time so Jacko turned to Blue and hinted he could eat a horse and chase the rider too. They’d had enough of fish and chips and thought they’d have some Thai, that oriental tucker place big Mal said they should try. The restaurant was open, therefore Jacko found a seat and tried to read the menu, but the lingo had him beat. He called the waiter over, who spoke worse than Jacko read, so the Ringer thought he’d gesture to the little bloke instead. He pointed to the menu, then to him and down at Blue, convinced the well dressed waiter would now know just what to do. Then suddenly a grin appeared upon the waiter’s dial and Jacko thought ... he’s got it ... and responded with a smile. The waiter beckoned to old Blue who followed in pursuit and Jacko thought ... that’s service ... and he thought it rather cute. I wonder what he’ll give old Blue - he does deserve a treat - a change I guess from biscuits and a chunk of old corned meat. Old Jacko sipped a glass of wine and sat there patiently and entertained himself by playing spoons upon his knee. He wondered just what sort of dish the waiter had in mind. He’d never eaten Thai before or tucker of that kind. Then from the crowded kitchen came the waiter with a tray. A meat dish cooked in spices and done in the old Thai way. He lay it on the table and he said “You like it chum?” But Jacko looked dumbfounded and his body went quite numb. His look was rather fearful like and tears came to his eyes and all the boys from back of Bourke they would have heard his cries. For there, beneath the crackly, was his one and only mate, old Blue his only friend in life dished up upon a plate. Poor Jacko went berserk they say and tore the place apart and ended up a nervous wreck and with a weakened heart. These days he’s in a nursing home and life is full of bliss, but Jacko’s never eaten meat from that day down to this. ©Bush Poet and Balladeer Merv Webster
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