While perfroming down at the Port Fairy Festival in Victoria I noticed that across from me were these Chinese folk practising their form of massage on folks and my old imagination started to click in. I needed a new performance poem so here goes.
THE ORIENTAL CURE
I was at a local festival and walking down the street
but my poor old bones were battling and the pain near had me beat.
All the years of riding Rodeo and wrestling toey steers
were now coming back to haunt me and reducing me to tears.
Then my youngest lad he pointed to some oriental chaps
in a tent who did massaging that could help me out perhaps?
But the thought mate had me cringing and to me it seemed quite clear
that he somehow had forgotten what had happened late last year.
This old Chinese bloke called Wong Fu, who lived up my street away,
said he did that u beaut massage thing for little or no pay.
He suggested that within an hour he’d rid me of my pain
and I’d think that I was wrestling steers and feeling young again.
Well I thought I’d give the thing a shot, as I had nought to fear,
when he threw me on a table and his hands flew into gear.
His old fingers they were digging to find muscle ‘neath the fat
and within the first ten minutes I was purring like a cat.
All the aches and pains subsided and my head went kind of light
and I did feel like a young man and old Wong Fu had been right.
In my mind I’d dreamed I’d drifted back to days of long ago
and I had a headlock on a steer at some night Rodeo.
I could hear his raucous bellow as he struggled to get free
and he darned near tried most everything to rid himself of me.
But I sucked in one last breath of air and twisted his old neck
and he went down like a bag of spuds and hit the flaming deck.
I could hear the crowd all cheering and I cherished the esteem
til I felt a sudden surge of pain that woke me from my dream
On the ground and fairly winded was old Wong Fu near half dead
and the headlock I’d put on the bloke had left his both ears red.
So with lightning speed he’d kung fu’d me with some jujitsu kick
that had landed right between my legs and man it did the trick.
He then rabbit chopped me with both hands and bellowed in Chinese,
“You go loco bloss or someling!” and he dropped me to my knees.
Well I walked off worse than ever and was aching twice as bad
and I never have forgotten that darn massage that I had.
So forget those Oriental cures; they’re far to troublesome.
I’ll just numb me pain the Aussie way, with good old Bundy Rum.
© Aussie Bush Poet and Ballad Writer
Merv Webster
Bush Poetry, Ballads and Yarns
The Oriental Cure
such vigor and humor in this piece...awesome write...I truly loved it...it tells quite a story...being a cowboy fan myself...I can say that it's one of my favorite...and I had to give it a 5 star rating!!!
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