Al Cobdogla's HearseA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe
mood in the town of Warramine Was
grim, and getting worse, For
stuck on the town’s old hump-back bridge Was
Al Cobdogla’s hearse, The
brakes had failed and the motor quit And
the footplates wedged each side, The
springs had sprung, and the body hung On
Emily’s final ride! The
coffin lodged in the back was black, As
black as Emily’s sin, There
wasn’t a man in the great outback That
hadn’t been out and in, For
Emily Gray was more than gay In
the old sense of the word, She
only charged a dollar a spin Out
there in the cattle yard. For
Emily was an outdoor girl She
couldn’t abide inside, She
liked the sun on her naked legs And
a good bit more beside, She’d
run stark naked under the trees When
the wattle began to bloom, And
wives would lock their men in the bar On
a Saturday afternoon. ‘The
blatant hussy,’ - ‘The brazen b***h!’ The
women would often say, The
men would mutter and drop their heads, ‘It’s
only Emily Gray!’ They
found her lying without a stitch, Or
that’s what somebody said, And
beat her bloody with candlesticks, So
now, poor Emily’s dead! She
lay in the coffin, wedged in tight, As
tight as the hearse on the bridge, The
men got worried and pulled her out And
stuck her in somebody’s fridge! ‘She
won’t last long in the heat out here, It’s
over a hundred today,’ It
seemed that the women of Warramine Were
stuck with Emily Gray! They
pushed and heaved, pummelled and thrust But
nothing could budge that hearse, The
only bridge into Warramine Was
blocked, for better or worse, The
farmers couldn’t get into the pub, The
townsfolk, locked in the town, While
Emily Gray, quite naked lay
With the men, all milling around. They
built a fabulous highway bridge, Four
lanes, both in and out, While
Al Cobdogla’s ancient hearse Is
part of the tourist route, And
Emily went to her final rest To
the cheers of the men, and cursed, But
Warramine boasts its ‘Emily Bridge’ Thanks
to Cobdogla’s hearse! David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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