'Kiss my firty-five,
Tomorrow never comes'
Scruffy looking John in his dirty overall,
Face covered with soot and grime;
The sweat on his bald head shine!
A four year old girl looked on
As passers-by looked and glare at John.
"Here he comes again," shouted the kids,
"Go away! You smell of piss".
John loved his smoke and beer
He’d never stay still nor directly look at anyone
For in his eyes there was no fear.
Cleanliness was alien to the guy
He's the joke of the village -
even lizards and gechos knew why!
Kids were sent to rubbish bins
to collect empty bottles and bottle tops
For the family home brew - to accumulate stock.
Same were buried in the ground to keep them cool,
Until, on a peaceful afternoon, a voice was heard,
"Here comes the fool."
"Kiss my forty-five - tomorrow never comes"
was John's reply. The four year old girl never knew
what he meant nor did he explain,
why anyone must 'kiss his forty-five!'
His right arm, severed at the elbow,
Scared the children as he bellowed -
"Kiss my forty-five, tomorrow never comes!"
Mother would dig the hole, return with a bottle
Of her best home brew;
John guzzled half the brown liquid
Before anyone can say, "Boo!"
"Why John, why? You scare many children,"
The little girl asked, passing him the bottle of brew.
Tears rolled down his wrinkled face
And he said, "Little girl, in the war,
A soldier put his gun in my mouth and said,
"Kiss my forty-five - tomorrow never comes".
John continued, "I was sent home (to Samoa)
Don't care if it's west or east,
for I was no good to man nor beast
I'm still waiting for the soldier
to pull the trigger in my mouth
O! I hate the war, I'd rather head south".
Father earned his sweat, but alas!
Mum's home brew was the best.
At two shillings a full bottle
Her family were fed.
John passed away but left memories of
"Kiss my forty-five, tomorrow never comes!"
Taught the now matured woman - she's wise,
compassionate, forgiving,
And not to criticize!!
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