PEGLEG PETE

In the town of Borroloola

Lived a chap called Peg Leg Pete,

Whom a croc dined on for dinner

When one night they chanced to meet.

With two thirds a leg gone missing

Pete had troubles when he stood,

So he adzed a stringy sapling

And shaped out a leg of wood.

But this never curbed his fervour

When it came to hunt and shoot.

He would clad the peg legs bottom

In a cut-down rubber boot.

Quite a fierce and fearless hunter

Crocs and buffaloes he'd take.

But Pete's bravery eroded

If he came across a snake.

' Twas the source of much amusement...

" I've snake phobia!" he'd cry.

And he'd shin up trees or boulders

If a serpent slithered by.

But mankind is sometimes callous

With it's pranks on fellow man,

And Pete's phobia was tested

With his mate's demonic plan.

There were mud crabs on the menu

In their camp way out of town

And dessert came from a bottle...

O P rum to wash them down.

On that balmy gourmet ev'ning

Peg Leg Pete had not a care.

But when sett'ling down for sleeping

There was mischief in the air.

Pete removed his wooden peg leg

Donned his nightshirt to retire

And unrolled his swag to slumber

Near the flicker of the fire.

As he slept his mates crept forward

For they had intentions grim,

When with string they tied a dead snake

To his vacant wooden limb.

Then they held their ribs in laughter

They were clearly on a roll

When their victim shed his blankets

For a midnight comfort stroll.

Hapless Pete strapped on his peg leg

In a trance of rum and sleep,

Then he limped across the clearing

For his nature's call to keep.

But his sixth sense had him glancing

In the moonlight to his rear,

And the sight he saw advancing

Filled the heart of Pete with fear.

It was wiggling...it was wriggling

His worst nightmare twice maligned,

and the faster he travelled

It still stayed one foot behind.

As crazed Pete sped round the clearing

He'd the snake in hot pursuit.

Even leaping right up with him

On the bonnet of his ute.

To his mates' macabre amusement

Pete hopped screaming through the trees.

While the air was filled with flapping

From his nightshirt in the breeze.

And that night was the last they saw him

For he never did return.

Through the years it pricks their conscience

When his whereabouts they learn.

For from time to time there's stories

That they glean from local blacks

Of a hairy Dreamtime creature

And a scary set of tracks.

One foot is bare....the other

Wears a boot of rubber kind,

And a snake's his lone companion

Which crawls quickly, just behind.

Sometimes tourists glimpse a spectre

In a torn and tattered skirt...

That's the lacerated remnants

Of old Pegleg'sflannel shirt.

Peg Leg Pete is now in folklore

Way out Booroloola way.

The old wooden -legged snake man...

They still find his tracks today.

Bob Magor