How We Beat the Bungtown Crew by Phil Garlick

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Just sit you down, my hearties, and I'll tell you what I've known
To befall the boys we played with in the days of "Mike" Malone.
We reckoned that we knew the game, and we didn't care a curse
For all the combinations in the Bungtown universe.

We were due to play the Bruisers, "friends" we'd often met before,
And it came our way thus early that with us they'd "wipe the floor!"
But if ever men were ready, then our followers were that day,
And I never saw them fitter, or so eager for the fray.

The Bungtown boys were favourites, for they hadn't lost a game,
But the team we represented were never known to fame.
The match was down for half-past two, and the Bruisers took the field
Just as fit as hands could make them to to none prepared to yield.

We were later out than usual, and the mod commenced to howl,
But our skipper said: "Oh, curse them!  Just let the ____ growl!"
Still, we didn't keep them waitin' -- soon the battle had begun,
And a shout went up around us, as away the leather spun.

They rush it up the centre, and their forwards beat out backs,
And the mob went mad with shouting: "You will line these ___ 'acks!"
Then the goals they came in showers, and our fellows seemed outdone.
As we finished up the quarter with them twenty points to none.

Then we had the wind behind us, but 'twas all the same to them,
For they waltzed around us, and their pace we couldn't stem.
But just before the cowbell, "Ginger" sent the leather through,
And we parted for refreshments with their score at eight to two.

Then our captain held a council -- such a thing we'd never had,
And he told us not to blame him if the ___ "did us bad."
But we took the matter kindly, and we made a solemn vow
That we'd do or die this quarter, and we'd win this game somehow.

The umpire blew his whistle -- we had changed our ruck this time --
And our friends began to cheer us as we bounded o'er the line.
We hadn't gone ten minutes ere we'd much reduced the score,
And it looked as though we'd catch them -- but we wanted two goals more.

They said, "Any odds, the Bruisers," when we faced the final duel,
And the mob was "pokin' mullock" as we lined up for our gruel.
"Scooter" thought he'd change his tactics, and he said to "Mike" Malone:
"Take a turn at playin' forward, and let 'Boshter' Kirton roam!"

But disaster seemed to dog us, and they'd made another goal
Before we'd time to check them, and they had us in a hole.
Then O'Malley got the leather, and he passed it on to "Mick,"
And a shout went up like thunder as our hero did the trick.

We were now six points behind them -- and with twenty minutes played,
"Scooter" shot it on to "Ginger," and another point was made.
Our jokers played like demons, but the pace began to tell,
And as our forwards kicked out wide we thought we hard the bell.

But 'twas our imagination -- we'd a minute more to play --
So we knew 'twas now or never, though they kept us well at bay.
M'Lusky for the Bruisers was then seem to make a bound,
And he collared "Mike" Maloney, and he swung him round and round.

The umpire brought the leather back, and awarded a free kick,
And you could have heard a pin drop as he gave the ball to "Mick."
Just then the cowbell sounded, and full eighty yards, 'twas seen,
Lay the goal from "Mike" Maloney -- and it had to go between.

He put it down upon the ground, and walked back half-a-mile.
And our Skipper whispered: "Michael! now you're fairly on your trial!"
"Mike" took his run -- and rooted -- like a bird the leather flew --
And the roar that shook the rafters showed we'd beat the Bungtown crew.

First published in Melbourne Punch, 27 August 1908

Author: nothing is known about the author of this poem 

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on August 27, 2012 9:37 AM.

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