MIDWEEK POETRY: Skippy’s Revenge.

We journeyed up to the north coast today for a drive to the beach, headed back late and had two ways to come home. One way involved peak hour traffic, the other a nice country drive. We took the country drive, and would have been home before dusk, well before our wee Macropod brethren sit in the middle of dark country byways. Listening to a talking book, enjoying the drive the trip went beautifully. Then a severe traffic accident on our quiet country road delayed us for about half an hour, before the word from the police came up the line, the road would be closed for two more hours. So after a big looping detour we were on track. It’s all about timing. A kilometre from home, around a slight bend and there he sat. Right in the middle of the road. It’s never good to hit a creature with your car. There are no winners. So I thought I would do an impromptu little piece of rubbish poetry to vent my feelings.

SKIPPY’S REVENGE.

When driving home in gloomy dark,
listening to comedy for a lark
the headlights show in outlines stark.
A startled kangaroo.

Twas no beast of large dimension
it tarried, giving no intention,
some cursing issued, I will not mention.
We hit the blasted thing.

Not far from home, the poor thing died.
I sat behind the wheel and cried
Oh no, the engine I have fried.
Crikey what will we do.

The Kangaroo, I’m ‘fraid is gone,
We’ve already hit another one,
Then, very little damage done.
We’re bloody lucky.

Before we travel on too far,
I’m going to fit a big Roo bar
to save my poor little car.
From damage.

So there you have my tale of woe,
off to the garage I will go,
the car may even need a tow.
Bugger.

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