Black And White Cargo Poem by Billy Bennett

Deep in the heart of the jungle,
Close to the white man's grave,
Where the goldfish have beards that stick out of their ears
And only the gooseberries shave.

I've tackled fierce lions alone and unarmed,
Of chasing fierce lions I think nothin';
One Saturday night I had Lyons chasing me
With a bill for two teas and a muffin.

I have snared the swift snipe in the swampland,
I have guillotined grouse in the glen,
And once in a blizzard I opened its gizzard
And filled up a Swan's fountain pen.

I have hunted the hairy hyena,
I've grappled with grizzly gorillas,
I've seen elephants' trunks pick up pineapple chunks
And stuff them in under their pillows.

Men out there are simply white cargo;
Drink ruins their internal workings.
When I landed there I'd my cargo aboard
I was chockfull of Guinness and gerkins.

A man may be strong, but he'll never last long,
For the whisky is certain to find him.
One fellow out there has drunk so much White Horse
That he's got a tail sprouting behind him.

An Indian ayah would do all my chores,
A real homely soul you could trust in,
She'd come round each morning and sweep out the place,
Make the beds and then empty the dustbin.

This motherly Hindoo had got a bay windoo,
She weighed twenty stone... very OM-BOM!
Each night on the mat she would squat on her fat
And play me a tune on her tom-tom

One day in the heat a girl lay in the street,
The crowd round her pushing and shovin'.
She was roasting alive, so I turned the girl over
And pushed the meat back in the oven.

Oh! the mosquito bites on those hot sultry nights,
And gosh! how these bites used to tickle us.
One mosquito flew in and parked on my skin
And bit me between Easter and Michaelmas.

It was out there I met Toncilitus,
She was so hot her skin started cracking
Her eyes were so black that she used to cry ink
And the sweat on her brow did for blacking.

She'd been a canal walker in Venice,
And she used to catch Cans out in Canton.
Her skin was so dark I'd have missed her that night,
But she'd hold of a constable's lantern.

Her dark raven hair and her back brown and bare
Was the smoothest skin eyes ever set on.
'Till some silly sap went and ruined her map
When he used it to strop his Gillette on.

Toncilitus was dumb as an oyster.
To make that girl talk I'd a tussel,
Till I found out one night if you tickle her chin
Her mouth opened just like a mussel.

And, oh! what a mouth when it opened,
It stretched and it stretched and it gave.
I took one look and flew. as I shouted adieu,
For I knew 'twas the White Man's Grave.