Beer And Op Rum Poem by David Keig

They live up at the Mission
Not that far away from here
They come down in the evenings
And we give them rum and beer.

To drink they’re not accustomed
And its then we have our fun
We set the men a’fighting
And bet on the outcome.

When you’ve no women in your township,
They are always on your mind
So the women get the harder stuff
And, drinking spirits, they go wild.

Sometimes, we fight amongst ourselves
When a younger ‘gin comes down
But mostly we just take our turn
As we pass the girl around.

Myself? I am a decent man
Of good strong Irish stock
But those Abo’s cannot take their drink
And soon have had enough.

So we leave them in the paddock
And I must I do confess
Look at that pile of bodies
And often have to wretch.

At times some of the other men
Want to prolong the game
So they douse them all in kerosene
And with a match they start a flame.

Few of them are killed you know,
They mostly wake when they’re alight
And run off madly screaming
And dancing in the night.

Some of my mates take pot shots
If they can hold a gun
They aim at all those naked feet
Seeing how fast they can run.

It’s hard out in the bush, my friend
And you often feel alone
But with my beer and OP rum
It’s then I feel at home.