___Granddad Poem by Bob Gibson

My granddad was a bushman in the out backs of Woolloomooloo
he knew all the aborigines, and he could play the didgeridoo
he wasn't afraid of spiders, or poison tiger snakes
he'd eat the white eyed mealy bugs, he made them into cakes!

Granddad never had a gun, he used his boomerangs
whenever snakes attacked him, he'd knock out their fangs
he'd could track a dingo through the bush, all the tricks he knew
the goanna's and the platypus, he'd make into stew

he dressed like an aborigine, with his painted skin
he told me about the 'dream time' the outback and within
he's going back there one day, but its all hush! hush!
he's fallen asleep in his chair! , i guess there isn't any rush