The Drop Bear Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

ONE day young Elsie Randle
Cooled off at Swaggie's Run,
Her bra straps and her girdle
There flashing in the sun.
'Twas New Year's Eve, and slowly
Across the ridges low
The sad Old Year was drifting
To where the old years go.

The New Chum's mind reviewing
The Facebook pages of her life —
Her love for Pommy Breeding
Ere she became an Aussie wife;
She sorrowed for the sorrows
Of a heart not nobly won,
And she pined that she was trouble
Out there on Swaggie's Run.

The sapling shades had lengthened,
The summer day was late,
As Elsie quickly hastened
Beyond the homestead gate.
And if the hand of trouble
Can leave a lasting trace,
The lines of care had come to stay
On poor sweet Elsie's face.

She walked among the gum trees
As the shadows gathered there
Lost in thought of Brucie Humphries
Whose manners drove her spare.
And great black clouds of menace
On Bush and Creek descended
‘No gent will ever show his face
‘Where politesse has ended'.

Then a Drop Bear's rude descent
Knocked poor Elsie flat -
It heard her Pommy Accent
And couldn't stomach that.
Lord save her from that hell
I beg in girlhood's name!
For if it gives a vampire kiss,
That ends the bleedin' game.

Could England or its sisters
Hold up their heads again,
To face the Outback's malice
Or claim the love of men?
And if it plants a smacker
It were better were she dead -
As when its fangs retracted
Its premolars glowed bright red.

Just then up came the Squatter
Riding on his thoroughbred
He saw the maiden in distress
And this is what he said:
‘Relieve yourself young lady
And rub it on your head'.
And so young Elsie sprang a leak
To shake the Drop Bear dread.

The sad Australian sunset
Had faded from the west;
But night brings darker shadows
To hearts that cannot rest;
And Bruce the Cocky sits rocking
And moaning in his chair.
‘I cannot bear disgrace, ' he moaned;
‘Disgrace I cannot bear.

‘In hardship and in trouble
‘I struggled year by year
‘To make my homestead better
‘Than other Bush Runs here.
‘And now my girl's a squatter's sheila
‘How can I show my face?
‘I've nothing left but Mutt the Heeler,
‘And a slip rail bough-shed place!

‘Ah, God in Heaven pardon!
‘I'm selfish in my woe —
‘My girl is better set now
‘Than many that I know'.

But Elsie on her big verandah
Rocked and pondered her relief -
She thought of Brucie only now
And missed the Vegemite between his teeth.
And ere a two year's dawning
They set up home at last;
And this is but a story
Of woes now long since past!