Carlton Miniott Home Guard poem

Category:  Home Guard

Carlton Miniott Home Guard poem

Such was the comradeship within the Carlton Miniott Home Guard that one member was moved to poetry:

“Now Carlton's a Township if it ain't on the map
An like all little Townships it don't care a rap
For it's got it's Home Guard to harrass the Bosh
If he makes his invasion he'll cop it by gosh
Now we've publican Ingham 'at keeps Busby Stoop
He might like his bitter, still he's no goop
And his premises were once the scene of a hanging
An might even witness or Lewis guns banging
At said Busby Stoop one neight we'd a party
An't captain were there to ensure we were hearty
We had Carritts and' Turnips mashed taties an' pies
An' a dollup of singing from 8 jovial guys
There were lads of the Air Force with songs of the Prairy
An' a veteran too who sang old Tipperary
An' when t' Captain proposed toast in t' middle of t' ring
It were great to hear t' response to God Save the King.
  Now there's big Edgar Winter - his name may feel cold
But the prestige of t' bulldog he trains to uphold
To some he be harmless and would'nt melt sugar
But rouse him and you'll find he ain't half a ––––
  Then there's Reginald Bilton who lives at Rush Farm
He's keen on parade and always keeps calm
He drives the farm tractor when plying his trade
An' works on manouvres - you'd think he were paid
  Next we have Prentice a chap we call Bunk
I know if the time comes they'll find he won't funk
He knows all the district the dry land and bogs
If he doesn't he ought to - he keeps racing dogs
  Then we've Fletcher a lad we call Ken
He's a farmer's son doing his bit wi' the men
With a rifle he's handy and may give some shocks
'Cos I did hear last week he'd bagged a fine fox
  Now Brothers Myers to parade they don't come
But we all know their job means a lot on the run
But our Sergeant gets ruffled 'cos they don't pull their weight
But their jobs up at morning an' late home at night”

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