Poem: Cane Cutter's Baptism in Fire
Out the door
one morn’
Commute appall’n
From Birkdale the East
Eagleby the beast-
ly traffic, worse connections.
Get onto site
Bougainvillea causing strife
So I tuck in, and
Get on the knife
Two Meters
tall an’
5 Inches Thorns an’
Barely the room for
Cane Cutters broom but
I will clear that damn thing all right.
This is the life
Exertive Challenges Rife
As I hack and slash
Away with Cane Knife
When that
one is done
Slightly bigger one
Is upon me
So en garde ye
Bloody plant. Three mill splinter deployed;
Through Twill Cotton Shirt
And upon scar tissue, did hurt
A bit, but I’m
Not digging it out
Then clear
out the trash
It did catch and scratch
Everything along that
Narrow accessed flat
But thank god for long pants, long shirt
Gloves, Safety glasses
Did save my face, and my arse,
And my chest, and, well
Better not make this farce
Queensland
this is
The cane knife; tis
A symbol of work
Made to swing in the dirt
To Cut Cane in the decades past
Glory to the Ganger
Title I’ve earnt in this manner
For T’was this cane cutters
Baptism in Fire
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