The Sh*t Kicker Poem by Jerry Behr Number 2

He came by sea, along with all the
Others of the throng who all had enough of all the
“Attila The Nuts” of the world. So they all said goodbye to their native
Homelands where ever that maybe and set sail for the Land Down Under.
They all came, wives, husbands, kids, with their dreams let no man put sunder.

Journeying on the high seas was not without its perils,
The sh*t kicker’s kids were nearly orphaned on the journey
To the Land Down Under. Psittacosis had gripped mum and dad,
For the three boys it was now a fearful Alien world that they were now sailing.
The kids needed fellow country men from the Netherlands mum and dad are ailing.

Before landfall mum and dad recovered and were reunited
With their kids and their little ethnic community which were onboard.
Sitting at the dinner tables were the, Van Oustes, Behrs, and the Rykers.
While journeying to the New Land, life onboard ship was like a hotel.
Going Down Under with their dreams, husbands, wives and kids twenty in total.

It was dawn, Mr. Anton Behr
Quietly walked on deck while the rest of us
Were asleep in our bunks below. Before him the panorama of
Sydney Harbor, on shore the lights had not yet dimmed, neither the morning star.
The morning breeze of freedom he drank like a toast to the journey from afar.

Mr. Behr noticed in the distance
A bridge looming and noticed the time,
It was The Time to get the missus and the kids
Ready for the New Land. With the families on deck, the ship birthed at
Circular Quay in front of the welcoming arms of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.
On the wharf the gangway emerged and all the world emerged from abyss’s ridge.

The chosen ones came off the gangway and got on
The bus next to the arches the gateway into the New Land.
The world sat in their seats, mum, dad the kids, even grans
It was a fine morning. Welcome to the Land Down Under, a strange place really.
Weird all right, they drive on the”wrong” side of the road, but they moved about freely.

With wide eyes emigrants from all lands traveled along the
Hume Highway through Sydney’s sprawling suburbs each talking in
Their own tongue. Through Broadway they came, Ashfield, onwards
Passed Bankstown, they then turned intoVillawood all the buses with the throng.
Arriving at Villawood hostel what the immigrants saw, required them to be strong.

The “living quarters” were half moon ex army barracks made from
corrugated iron, there were hundreds of them gleaming with their silvery linings.
This was a far, far, far cry from the “hotel” that they were sailing on before.
It was freedoms call why they all came and they could feel freedom’s breeze stirring.
Stepping off the bus onto the Land Down Under begins a lifetimes adventure sterling.

7/6/2004