A black Rolls Royce pulled up outside a South Australian pub,

the tiny country town was all agog,

not many strangers came out here, through all the miles of scrub

apart from some old drover with his dog!

The back door opened wide - a city slicker looked about,

he stood and stretched, he must have traveled far,

his suit suggested money, he was filthy rich, no doubt,

he glanced around then strode into the bar.

The barmaid looked him up and down - a high-class bloody Lord!

She wondered why he'd come out all this way,

not much out in the backblocks for some Chairman of some Board,

she wiped the bar and said a trite "G'day!"

"A ten-ounce glass of draught, my lass, a lager would be best,

and fetch two eggs and crack them in the beer,

two oysters in the glass and then a pinch of lemon zest,

and mix in some Tabasco sauce, my dear!"

She followed his instructions, topped it up with cubes of ice,

then served it with some crackers on a plate,

no precedent existed so she didn't know the price,

she looked him in the eye: "Ten dollars, mate!"

He put a twenty on the bar and lifted up the drink,

it looked a sickly shade of yellow-brown,

he smiled at her, "Now that's the stuff to keep me in the pink!

Good health to you, my dear!" He drank it down!

Old Harry in the corner couldn't take it any more,

he'd had his share of beers, but that was rough -

he staggered to his wobbly feet and yelled across the floor,

"Now, why the bloody hell you drink that stuff?"

"Well firstly," said the City bloke, "the taste is raw and rare,

a soubriquet of flavors time has lost,

and secondly, financially, I haven't got a care,

so never have to fret about the cost.

"Then thirdly, it's a tonic that works magic in the brain,

it's better than some supersonic pill ,

it does the trick for me, you'll never hear the girls complain,

it puts a lot of lead in my pencil!"

He strode outside and drove away, old Harry watched him go,

"That's something you don't see most every day...

I'll try that bloody drink he had, he put on quite a show,"

the barmaid rolled her eyes and said okay.

She mixed another like the first and stirred it with a fork,

the oysters swirled around and Harry cursed:

"Them buggers look like something from the back end of a stork!"

She answered: "Yeah, and now the eggs have burst!"

He took a little sip, and then he started having fits,

he spurted it across the bar-room floor,

then hurled the glass, it smashed into a thousand tiny bits,

the barmaid yelled: "Now, what'd you do that for?"

"Well firstly," slurred old Harry, "that stuff tastes like bullock's bum,

and secondly, I can't afford to pay,

and third of all, unless you want to count me dear old Mum,

I've got no one to write to anyway!"

more of my FUNNY POEMS here