G'day Cobber!
May 16th 2004, 6:53 pm
#1
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
G'day Cobber!
G'day Cobber!
G'day cobber Bill's the name how're you goin' mate
I had to run to catch this bus strewth I can't be late
The boss would have my jewels on toast he'd hang me from a Gum
He'd kick me in the pants until my arse was flamin' numb
He just won't cop a bludger blue he hates them with a passion
He'd remove my goolies with his teeth In a funny kinda' fashion
He doesn't mind a smoko break for a bloke who is fair dinkum
And a sickie if you're really sick but don't try to out-think him
He's a real good bloke though deep inside his leathery exterior
He likes to think his crew's the best don't tell him they're inferior
He'll do his nut he'll vent his spleen he'll give a real tongue lashin'
Not worried if he comes to blows he'll give a bloke a thrashin'
So let me tell you here and now I'll work hard for my boss
I'm not like the bludger boys who couldn't give a toss
A good days work a good days pay that'll do me not a worry
I will not bludge or take my time but matey I won't hurry
Copyright; Amin Sane
G'day cobber Bill's the name how're you goin' mate
I had to run to catch this bus strewth I can't be late
The boss would have my jewels on toast he'd hang me from a Gum
He'd kick me in the pants until my arse was flamin' numb
He just won't cop a bludger blue he hates them with a passion
He'd remove my goolies with his teeth In a funny kinda' fashion
He doesn't mind a smoko break for a bloke who is fair dinkum
And a sickie if you're really sick but don't try to out-think him
He's a real good bloke though deep inside his leathery exterior
He likes to think his crew's the best don't tell him they're inferior
He'll do his nut he'll vent his spleen he'll give a real tongue lashin'
Not worried if he comes to blows he'll give a bloke a thrashin'
So let me tell you here and now I'll work hard for my boss
I'm not like the bludger boys who couldn't give a toss
A good days work a good days pay that'll do me not a worry
I will not bludge or take my time but matey I won't hurry
Copyright; Amin Sane
May 16th 2004, 6:55 pm
#2
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
Terrors Of A Country Town
Well you might think that travelling in the bush is the way to go
But there's pros and cons in everything and there's something you should know
I've been a lot of places, yes I've really been around
So let me introduce you to the terrors of a country town
The two motels are all full up, it'll have to be the Pub
So check for snakes beneath the bed and spiders in the tub
Just try to get a bit of sleep despite the racket from the Club
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
There's a mongrel cur outside the Pub, you approach with apprehension
The snarling lip and yellow fang with drool too foul to mention
The fixed eye with reddish stare soon gets your full attention
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
Oh it's a life upon the road you wanted travelling free and easy
But the dust and haze will grit your eye and the wet dirt road turns greasy
You haven't seen another car for hours and you don't know where you are
And you just can't help but wonder if you really want to be a country star
The footie team is back in town with scowls upon their faces
Those fifteen blokes from down the road have put them in their places
When they've drowned their sorrows in the pub they'll be Sunday's basket cases
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
The blowies buzz around your head and the mozzies ebb and flow
You're feeling faint from loss of blood, you're a pint or two below
You're black and blue from mattress lumps and the clock goes round so slow
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
It's a special life upon the road and it takes some getting used to
But the country folk are good as gold and the open air's seduced you
The sparkling sun on the wide brown land will pick you up and boost you
So don't let it get you down, keep your feet upon the ground
As you head into another country town
Copyright; Leighton B Watts 1984
Well you might think that travelling in the bush is the way to go
But there's pros and cons in everything and there's something you should know
I've been a lot of places, yes I've really been around
So let me introduce you to the terrors of a country town
The two motels are all full up, it'll have to be the Pub
So check for snakes beneath the bed and spiders in the tub
Just try to get a bit of sleep despite the racket from the Club
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
There's a mongrel cur outside the Pub, you approach with apprehension
The snarling lip and yellow fang with drool too foul to mention
The fixed eye with reddish stare soon gets your full attention
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
Oh it's a life upon the road you wanted travelling free and easy
But the dust and haze will grit your eye and the wet dirt road turns greasy
You haven't seen another car for hours and you don't know where you are
And you just can't help but wonder if you really want to be a country star
The footie team is back in town with scowls upon their faces
Those fifteen blokes from down the road have put them in their places
When they've drowned their sorrows in the pub they'll be Sunday's basket cases
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
The blowies buzz around your head and the mozzies ebb and flow
You're feeling faint from loss of blood, you're a pint or two below
You're black and blue from mattress lumps and the clock goes round so slow
But don't let it get you down, they're just the terrors of a country town
It's a special life upon the road and it takes some getting used to
But the country folk are good as gold and the open air's seduced you
The sparkling sun on the wide brown land will pick you up and boost you
So don't let it get you down, keep your feet upon the ground
As you head into another country town
Copyright; Leighton B Watts 1984
May 16th 2004, 7:02 pm
#3
Guest
Posts: n/a
Re: G'day Cobber!
Put that bottle down Don...........you're maudlin:
or are ya readin it to yer dowgie???
In which case carry on cos she may appreciate it matey
Phoenixuk2oz
or are ya readin it to yer dowgie???
In which case carry on cos she may appreciate it matey
Phoenixuk2oz
May 16th 2004, 7:15 pm
#4
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
It's Not Too Different
It's not too different ... way down here
The sun's a bit hotter ... It's a good drop 'o beer
It's not too way out ... in a strange sort of way
If ya get a good day's work in ... ya get a good day's pay.
There's just one or two thing's ... that ya have to put up with.
Nothin' too much to handle ... just a little hard to live with
Like the cockroaches ... and lizards, and snakes in the yard.
I've tried to ignore 'em ... but I'm finding it hard.
It's not that they ... want to bother me like.
But when I see 'em, I'd just rather ... Hop on me bike.
If ya can put up with the creepies ... and the big hairy crawlies
and the thing's that go bump in the night ...
where the hall is.
If ya can just turn your back ... on the munchies and bities
That hide in ya jammies ... and creep into ya nighties.
I'd recommend it if ya coming to stay for a spell
To get your injections ... if ya don't it's just hell.
It's lovely down here though ... in the tropical bit.
If ya could just find a place ... where ya could just safely sit!
Please mother-in-law ... It ain't all that bad
And the wife's missing you ... it's driving 'er made
So visit if ya must ... there's not too much to fear
We're all missing you madly ... it's a shame your not 'ere.
Copyright; Robert Oxford - 4th December 1997
It's not too different ... way down here
The sun's a bit hotter ... It's a good drop 'o beer
It's not too way out ... in a strange sort of way
If ya get a good day's work in ... ya get a good day's pay.
There's just one or two thing's ... that ya have to put up with.
Nothin' too much to handle ... just a little hard to live with
Like the cockroaches ... and lizards, and snakes in the yard.
I've tried to ignore 'em ... but I'm finding it hard.
It's not that they ... want to bother me like.
But when I see 'em, I'd just rather ... Hop on me bike.
If ya can put up with the creepies ... and the big hairy crawlies
and the thing's that go bump in the night ...
where the hall is.
If ya can just turn your back ... on the munchies and bities
That hide in ya jammies ... and creep into ya nighties.
I'd recommend it if ya coming to stay for a spell
To get your injections ... if ya don't it's just hell.
It's lovely down here though ... in the tropical bit.
If ya could just find a place ... where ya could just safely sit!
Please mother-in-law ... It ain't all that bad
And the wife's missing you ... it's driving 'er made
So visit if ya must ... there's not too much to fear
We're all missing you madly ... it's a shame your not 'ere.
Copyright; Robert Oxford - 4th December 1997
May 16th 2004, 7:16 pm
#5
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
I Hope Yer Sheep Get Flyblown
So you're the mob got all the rain while we got hardly none;
The clouds massed over your place and left us with the sun.
Your bit of sky grew darker, while we just got the heat -
I watched the storms a-building... my thoughts were not too sweet,
I caught a whiff of dampness as the wind began to gust;
It blasted all around and then it drowned us in... red dust.
Lightning filled the heavens, caused havoc with the power;
Yes, we got the black-outs... but we never got a shower.
**************************
I hope yer sheep get flyblown,
I hope yer fleeces rot;
I hope the 'roos find all yer grass
and eat the bloody lot.
I hope yer cattle choke on weed
and then all get the shits;
I hope that when it rains again
yer roads all fall to bits.
I hope the burr-bush thrives and grows
and spreads across yer land;
I hope yer stock gets nicked when
all that rain dissolves yer brands.
I hope yer fences wash away
and all yer horses roam;
I hope a heap of nasty leaks
will moisturise yer home.
I hope that big green slimy frogs
will populate yer loo;
I hope they serenade you
'til yer ear-drums break in two.
I hope yer dogs all get webbed feet
and keep 'em for all time;
I hope a million bog-holes
will then turn yer place to slime.
I hope the creek beside yer yards
will shift 'em from their site;
I hope the hopes I hope for you
will keep you up all night.
Copyright; Janine Haig
So you're the mob got all the rain while we got hardly none;
The clouds massed over your place and left us with the sun.
Your bit of sky grew darker, while we just got the heat -
I watched the storms a-building... my thoughts were not too sweet,
I caught a whiff of dampness as the wind began to gust;
It blasted all around and then it drowned us in... red dust.
Lightning filled the heavens, caused havoc with the power;
Yes, we got the black-outs... but we never got a shower.
**************************
I hope yer sheep get flyblown,
I hope yer fleeces rot;
I hope the 'roos find all yer grass
and eat the bloody lot.
I hope yer cattle choke on weed
and then all get the shits;
I hope that when it rains again
yer roads all fall to bits.
I hope the burr-bush thrives and grows
and spreads across yer land;
I hope yer stock gets nicked when
all that rain dissolves yer brands.
I hope yer fences wash away
and all yer horses roam;
I hope a heap of nasty leaks
will moisturise yer home.
I hope that big green slimy frogs
will populate yer loo;
I hope they serenade you
'til yer ear-drums break in two.
I hope yer dogs all get webbed feet
and keep 'em for all time;
I hope a million bog-holes
will then turn yer place to slime.
I hope the creek beside yer yards
will shift 'em from their site;
I hope the hopes I hope for you
will keep you up all night.
Copyright; Janine Haig
May 16th 2004, 7:18 pm
#6
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
Drizabone
As my heart sings a country song,
I brave the yearly August throng,
with pioneering instincts strong
to where the bushmen are;
just a cute blue-eyed city chick,
in pointy heels and dressed so slick,
I've tip-toed where the bullshit's thick
on past the Cattleman's Bar.
And there along the bales of hay,
where gorgeous hunks stand in array,
I've paused awhile to say: G'day
to manhood from the sticks;
and Brahman bulls stare back at me
and say: My gosh! what can this be?
Strange looking curiosity -
these showbag Brisbane chicks!
The horses always catch my eye,
on concrete canyons clatter by,
and leave their little green-grass pie
to mark their sacred ground;
and there begins this horsey tail,
a day when cold damp winds prevail,
I chanced to hear this city male
who fairly did astound:
The city codger stood admiring, in the drizzling rain,
outside the draught-horse stalls - it was the Ekka time again;
struck a one-way conversation with a farmer working there
in his oil-skin, a-brushing down his champion Clydesdale mare.
The farmer was the quiet type - the sort bushmen revere;
this city cove: a know-it-all - he filled the farmer's ear,
expounding his vast knowledge like some bushman of renown;
he claimed to know a lot for one who'd never left the town.
The farmer somehow figured he had never seen the bush -
he looked like one invaded by the crowded city push.
He seemed perhaps a victim of misguided misspent youth
with twisted preconceptions of the meaning of the truth.
Still on and on he prattled and recalled his days of old;
then whinged about the weather and the cursed rain and cold.
The farmer didn't mind the rain - he'd had enough of drought;
in truth, he was just hoping that they'd had it further out.
But still he listened patiently - politeness never fails;
the city chap observed at last: "They're good - them old Drysdales."
The farmer stopped and wondered if he meant the horse or coat;
so he says: "I think Drizabone's the name you meant t'quote."
"Ah! Drizabone! Yeah my mistake. You'd think that I should know -
old Grandad uster breed them once...back many years ago."!!!
Copyright; Graham Fredriksen
As my heart sings a country song,
I brave the yearly August throng,
with pioneering instincts strong
to where the bushmen are;
just a cute blue-eyed city chick,
in pointy heels and dressed so slick,
I've tip-toed where the bullshit's thick
on past the Cattleman's Bar.
And there along the bales of hay,
where gorgeous hunks stand in array,
I've paused awhile to say: G'day
to manhood from the sticks;
and Brahman bulls stare back at me
and say: My gosh! what can this be?
Strange looking curiosity -
these showbag Brisbane chicks!
The horses always catch my eye,
on concrete canyons clatter by,
and leave their little green-grass pie
to mark their sacred ground;
and there begins this horsey tail,
a day when cold damp winds prevail,
I chanced to hear this city male
who fairly did astound:
The city codger stood admiring, in the drizzling rain,
outside the draught-horse stalls - it was the Ekka time again;
struck a one-way conversation with a farmer working there
in his oil-skin, a-brushing down his champion Clydesdale mare.
The farmer was the quiet type - the sort bushmen revere;
this city cove: a know-it-all - he filled the farmer's ear,
expounding his vast knowledge like some bushman of renown;
he claimed to know a lot for one who'd never left the town.
The farmer somehow figured he had never seen the bush -
he looked like one invaded by the crowded city push.
He seemed perhaps a victim of misguided misspent youth
with twisted preconceptions of the meaning of the truth.
Still on and on he prattled and recalled his days of old;
then whinged about the weather and the cursed rain and cold.
The farmer didn't mind the rain - he'd had enough of drought;
in truth, he was just hoping that they'd had it further out.
But still he listened patiently - politeness never fails;
the city chap observed at last: "They're good - them old Drysdales."
The farmer stopped and wondered if he meant the horse or coat;
so he says: "I think Drizabone's the name you meant t'quote."
"Ah! Drizabone! Yeah my mistake. You'd think that I should know -
old Grandad uster breed them once...back many years ago."!!!
Copyright; Graham Fredriksen
May 16th 2004, 7:25 pm
#7
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
THE GAY FARMHAND
I rang the C.E.S. and said, “Slap me up an ad
I can’t run this farm myself, I need some help real bad!
So rustle me up a farmhand, one who’s good at fencin’
Oh, and he must not drink or smoke or swear, I s’pose I’d better mention�
Well I waited home all morning, pacing up and down the floor
And just as I had given up, a fist rapped on my door
I thought, you bloody beauty, they’ve dug me up a bloke
But when I threw the door back, well I bloody nearly choked
He stood there in a floral shirt, hands upon his hips
Permed hair past his collar, and lipstick on his lips
He carried a paisley saddle and a little embroidered bag
I thought to myself, Oh my gawd, this bloke’s a flamin' f....funny looking farmhand
He said, “Hi, my name is Toni, I’ve come here for the job�
I stood there flabbergasted, then foolishly opened my gob
I said, “Only Poofs and Movie Stars wear earrings in their ear....
And I can’t remember seeing a bloody movie of yours this year!�
“Oh, that’s discrimination!� he squealed, “This is the Land of the Free!
And nobody else applied for the job, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.�
Well, he had me over a barrel (....not literally of course!)
I said “I hope you can fix bloody fences, and know how to ride a horse�
“Ohh, I can do lots and lots of things!� Toni said to me
I mumbled “If you could act like a bloke, then I’d go to buggery!�
Yeah, well I shouldn’t have said that either, but my head was kind of reeling
Out here in the bush mate, men are men, except a few sheep farmers from New Zealand
So I slapped myself around the dial to bring myself to my senses
I said “Grab your saddle and get on a horse and I’ll show you these broken fences�
So off on the flint hard track we rode at a casual loping pace
Toni sat up top the dapple grey with a smile plastered over his face
I kept right away from the neighbour's fence and down the middle I went
‘Cause if anyone saw my new farmhand, I’d die through embarrassment
Then to pick up the pace, I grabbed the reins, slapped leather against the flank
“OHH, luck horse!� yelled Toni, “You certainly know how to spank!�
Now, it’s a shock for a bush bred bloke like meself to encounter a fella like Toni
So I turned my head around backwards, to keep an eye on this poonce on his pony
If he had any ‘Funny Business’ in mind then I would not give him the chance
But because my head was turned backwards, I never saw the branch!
It hit me in the back of the scone with a fearsome bloody force
Knocked me backwards, bum over head and straight off the back of my horse
I rolled towards a steep incline, then down the side I fell
And Murphy’s Law came into play as I fell down the old farm well
I lay there battered and broken, a bruised and bloodied wreck
I thought, ‘my day started off by breaking my pride, now it’s finished by breaking my neck!’
Then I looked to the sunlit lip of the well, only to bloody see
Toni’s ugly, pooncy mug staring down at me
“Ohh, are you alright you poor old dear!� he shouted out to me
“Here, grab these leather undies.� I screamed, “Go to Buggery!�
“No, I’m trying to pull you out, “ he said, then gaily winked his eye
I said, “You ain’t pulling me nowhere, mate! I’m staying down here ’till I die!�
Well, he lassoed me out with his panty hose, and saved me from my fate
Threw me over the rump of his horse, headed home at a casual gait
But by this time the neighbours had gathered, to cast ridicule at my pains
“Hey look, a horse’s arse on a horse’s arse with a horse’s hoof at the reins!�
So he took me home, and on my bed, he laid my battered hide
He said, “You just rest, dear, I’ll do the chores,� and then flitted on outside
And that’s the last I saw of Toni, ’cause next day when I awoke
There on my bedside cupboard was a little floral note
“Hi,� wrote Toni, “I’ve gone away, I know you don’t like me!
I’ve fixed your fences and done your chores and made you a pot of tea
I’ve gone to greener pastures, now, for I’m not your idea of a man
I’m going to where I’m appreciated for WHO not WHAT I am!�
Hell, I’d never felt so guilty, I wanted to crawl away and hide
Until I pulled my boots on and bloody walked outside
He’d strung my flamin’ fences up like a fancy macraméd noodle
And me poor old faithful cattle dog was clipped like a pooncy poodle
He’d painted the dunny nipple pink, and painted the farm ute beige
He’d shampooed and blow dried all my sheep, I flew into a rage
My tractor had turned to a Mardi Gras float, so I headed inside in a huff
To find that pot of tea he’d made was that chamomile bloody stuff!
So, again I rang the C.E.S. and said “Send me out a BLOKE!
One who drinks and swears and farts and loves to have a smoke
So they sent another farmhand who was rough and tough and mean
And stood at the door and said to me. “Gidday, my name is....Eileen!�
Copyright; Neil McArthur
I rang the C.E.S. and said, “Slap me up an ad
I can’t run this farm myself, I need some help real bad!
So rustle me up a farmhand, one who’s good at fencin’
Oh, and he must not drink or smoke or swear, I s’pose I’d better mention�
Well I waited home all morning, pacing up and down the floor
And just as I had given up, a fist rapped on my door
I thought, you bloody beauty, they’ve dug me up a bloke
But when I threw the door back, well I bloody nearly choked
He stood there in a floral shirt, hands upon his hips
Permed hair past his collar, and lipstick on his lips
He carried a paisley saddle and a little embroidered bag
I thought to myself, Oh my gawd, this bloke’s a flamin' f....funny looking farmhand
He said, “Hi, my name is Toni, I’ve come here for the job�
I stood there flabbergasted, then foolishly opened my gob
I said, “Only Poofs and Movie Stars wear earrings in their ear....
And I can’t remember seeing a bloody movie of yours this year!�
“Oh, that’s discrimination!� he squealed, “This is the Land of the Free!
And nobody else applied for the job, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.�
Well, he had me over a barrel (....not literally of course!)
I said “I hope you can fix bloody fences, and know how to ride a horse�
“Ohh, I can do lots and lots of things!� Toni said to me
I mumbled “If you could act like a bloke, then I’d go to buggery!�
Yeah, well I shouldn’t have said that either, but my head was kind of reeling
Out here in the bush mate, men are men, except a few sheep farmers from New Zealand
So I slapped myself around the dial to bring myself to my senses
I said “Grab your saddle and get on a horse and I’ll show you these broken fences�
So off on the flint hard track we rode at a casual loping pace
Toni sat up top the dapple grey with a smile plastered over his face
I kept right away from the neighbour's fence and down the middle I went
‘Cause if anyone saw my new farmhand, I’d die through embarrassment
Then to pick up the pace, I grabbed the reins, slapped leather against the flank
“OHH, luck horse!� yelled Toni, “You certainly know how to spank!�
Now, it’s a shock for a bush bred bloke like meself to encounter a fella like Toni
So I turned my head around backwards, to keep an eye on this poonce on his pony
If he had any ‘Funny Business’ in mind then I would not give him the chance
But because my head was turned backwards, I never saw the branch!
It hit me in the back of the scone with a fearsome bloody force
Knocked me backwards, bum over head and straight off the back of my horse
I rolled towards a steep incline, then down the side I fell
And Murphy’s Law came into play as I fell down the old farm well
I lay there battered and broken, a bruised and bloodied wreck
I thought, ‘my day started off by breaking my pride, now it’s finished by breaking my neck!’
Then I looked to the sunlit lip of the well, only to bloody see
Toni’s ugly, pooncy mug staring down at me
“Ohh, are you alright you poor old dear!� he shouted out to me
“Here, grab these leather undies.� I screamed, “Go to Buggery!�
“No, I’m trying to pull you out, “ he said, then gaily winked his eye
I said, “You ain’t pulling me nowhere, mate! I’m staying down here ’till I die!�
Well, he lassoed me out with his panty hose, and saved me from my fate
Threw me over the rump of his horse, headed home at a casual gait
But by this time the neighbours had gathered, to cast ridicule at my pains
“Hey look, a horse’s arse on a horse’s arse with a horse’s hoof at the reins!�
So he took me home, and on my bed, he laid my battered hide
He said, “You just rest, dear, I’ll do the chores,� and then flitted on outside
And that’s the last I saw of Toni, ’cause next day when I awoke
There on my bedside cupboard was a little floral note
“Hi,� wrote Toni, “I’ve gone away, I know you don’t like me!
I’ve fixed your fences and done your chores and made you a pot of tea
I’ve gone to greener pastures, now, for I’m not your idea of a man
I’m going to where I’m appreciated for WHO not WHAT I am!�
Hell, I’d never felt so guilty, I wanted to crawl away and hide
Until I pulled my boots on and bloody walked outside
He’d strung my flamin’ fences up like a fancy macraméd noodle
And me poor old faithful cattle dog was clipped like a pooncy poodle
He’d painted the dunny nipple pink, and painted the farm ute beige
He’d shampooed and blow dried all my sheep, I flew into a rage
My tractor had turned to a Mardi Gras float, so I headed inside in a huff
To find that pot of tea he’d made was that chamomile bloody stuff!
So, again I rang the C.E.S. and said “Send me out a BLOKE!
One who drinks and swears and farts and loves to have a smoke
So they sent another farmhand who was rough and tough and mean
And stood at the door and said to me. “Gidday, my name is....Eileen!�
Copyright; Neil McArthur
May 16th 2004, 7:48 pm
#8
Guest
Posts: n/a
Awww Don.....we love ya very much [that's me and your dowgie]........but we're fallin asleep matey
Now then.....I understand you have a speciality
It involves licking the palm of your hand..... and placing it under your wet armpit whilst vigourously flapping
Now I am a tad partial to anything by Handel or Bach.....
Preferably whilst yer dressed in yer Lederhosen
I'll just get me steiner of lager, sit our Chockie down und yu may schtart mein friend
Phoenixuk2oz
Now then.....I understand you have a speciality
It involves licking the palm of your hand..... and placing it under your wet armpit whilst vigourously flapping
Now I am a tad partial to anything by Handel or Bach.....
Preferably whilst yer dressed in yer Lederhosen
I'll just get me steiner of lager, sit our Chockie down und yu may schtart mein friend
Phoenixuk2oz
May 16th 2004, 8:04 pm
#9
Banned
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
Originally posted by Phoenixuk2oz
Awww Don.....we love ya very much [that's me and your dowgie]........but we're fallin asleep matey
Now then.....I understand you have a speciality
It involves licking the palm of your hand..... and placing it under your wet armpit whilst vigourously flapping
Now I am a tad partial to anything by Handel or Bach.....
Preferably whilst yer dressed in yer Lederhosen
I'll just get me steiner of lager, sit our Chockie down und yu may schtart mein friend
Phoenixuk2oz
Awww Don.....we love ya very much [that's me and your dowgie]........but we're fallin asleep matey
Now then.....I understand you have a speciality
It involves licking the palm of your hand..... and placing it under your wet armpit whilst vigourously flapping
Now I am a tad partial to anything by Handel or Bach.....
Preferably whilst yer dressed in yer Lederhosen
I'll just get me steiner of lager, sit our Chockie down und yu may schtart mein friend
Phoenixuk2oz
May 16th 2004, 8:10 pm
#10
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Posts: n/a
Originally posted by pleasancefamily
Ach, you obviously Kant read as vast as mich!
Ach, you obviously Kant read as vast as mich!
he sought he voz ever so funny
he laughed zo much
he damaged his crutch
Und now he's known as a mummy
Phoenixuk2oz
Last edited by Phoenixuk2oz; May 16th 2004 at 8:22 pm.
May 16th 2004, 8:17 pm
#11
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Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
Sehr vunny how alles zie poems Ich could finden about zie Lucky Land involved sheepies, blowflies, gay Farmers in Lederhosen und zie sogenannte 'dole bludgers'.
May 16th 2004, 8:24 pm
#12
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Originally posted by pleasancefamily
Sehr vunny how alles zie poems Ich could finden about zie Lucky Land involved sheepies, blowflies, gay Farmers in Lederhosen und zie sogenannte 'dole bludgers'.
Sehr vunny how alles zie poems Ich could finden about zie Lucky Land involved sheepies, blowflies, gay Farmers in Lederhosen und zie sogenannte 'dole bludgers'.
Phoenixuk2oz
May 17th 2004, 8:29 pm
#13
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Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2002
Posts: 7,613
Originally posted by Phoenixuk2oz
Und zis ist all happenink in England ya
Phoenixuk2oz
Und zis ist all happenink in England ya
Phoenixuk2oz
May 17th 2004, 8:31 pm
#14
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Joined: Aug 2003
Location: Near Duloc
Posts: 4,638
Ahhh so! Dey made me 'av a giggle mine friunds
May 17th 2004, 9:05 pm
#15
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Originally posted by Larissa
Ahhh so! Dey made me 'av a giggle mine friunds
Ahhh so! Dey made me 'av a giggle mine friunds
Ve ar zo fraudlich zat yu liked it mein friend
Aufweidersehn
Phoenixuk2oz