When the swaggies called in for some tucker
The squatter’s wife’s lips used to pucker.
They’d trudge through the heat
For a month for this sweet
Unsolicited generous succour.
Tag: Australian limerick
Simple pleasures
When a young country girl has a root
With her bloke in the back of his ute,
With his gun and his tools,
While his pet kelpie drools,
She’ll most likely still say it was beaut!
Country sheilas
Country women work hard and don’t nag.
They enjoy a cold beer and a fag,
Don’t sit round on their bums,
Cook and clean like their mums,
And they like a nice roll in the swag.
When a country girl’s tits start to sag,
She’s still good for a grope and a shag.
She still fancies her figure.
Her arse may be bigger,
That’s only more tail to wag!
Though her bloke’s a bit rough and a dag,
Put him down and you wave a red rag.
You’ll be in for a blue:
He’s her number-one screw.
And for God’s sake, don’t call her a slag!
The spangled drongo
The boss cocky, at whose job he angled,
Whose daughter’s hand, temptingly dangled,
He’d said could be his,
Led him on, but gee whizz!
What a drongo, however much spangled!
Bad Mothers’ Club
Each third Friday, the Bad Mothers Club
Meets for lunch at a nice discreet pub;
They drink, tell filthy jokes
And discuss sex and blokes,
While the nanny looks after the bub.
Love-birds
On her porch, they would kiss and canoodle,
She’d fondle his kit and caboodle!
In all kinds of weathers
He’d ruffle her feathers;
She’d coo, while she played yankee-doodle!
Precocious
He drawled “Mate! Though a bloke shouldn’t gloat,
She does ev’rything! Even deep throat!
Tits! God! Wait till you see!
And she reckons she’ll be
Old enough, come next August, to vote!”