Take some pointers my fine young recruit:
Just stand back, let the mob burn and loot.
Well of course they will rob
But remember your job
Is at stake, so for God’s sake don’t shoot.
Perhaps there’s nothing worse
Than toiling to rhyme verse
For hours and hours; to slave,
Then carefully to save
It to external drive
Which then takes a swan dive;
Surrenders all its digits,
Its cookies and its widgets.
My short-term memory
Is just a memory,
And so I can’t recall
Those words I wrote – at all.
Oh well, it is a pity
I’ve lost that little ditty
But since it’s surely dead,
I’m heading off to bed.
Ned Kelly, Australia’s celebrated bushranger, was hanged in 1880
at the age of 25 years. His body was buried in an unmarked grave
but his skeleton minus the head but with a piece of skull has been
recovered and finally buried.
Apparently someone has found his head,
(Or part of it, a piece of skull they said)
Which had been lost and lonely for some time
Since it and body parted ways back then.
They are quite sure it is the head of Ned;
The bushranger they hanged when in his prime;
A hero and a light to lesser men.
They have his bones, they pried them from his bed.
Quite well preserved despite the earth and lime,
So skeleton and head may meet again.
A riddle when alive – a puzzle dead.
Still, most agree it hardly is a crime
To put him back together if we can.