Glassy Eyed

March 4, 2009 by  
Filed under Bush Poetry, Glassy Eyed


Butchering is not a trade for the weak of stomach, and rest assured, the craft that is often practiced in the bush would leave many self respecting butchers queasy. Throw a few beers, a dark night, and a blunt knife into the mix and see what you come up with.


Old Ted had a glass eye that was missing its lid,
So the bloody thing just used to stare.
And whilst he was asleep one eye would be hid,
Whilst the other continued to glare.

Once on the way home from a spree at the pub,
And definitely being to drunk to drive.
He steered his ute towards his shack in the scrub, 
But didn’t realise he’d not make it alive.

A couple of miles out he stopped to shoot a roo,
And he waved the gun in its general direction.
He needed bones for the dogs and some meat for the stew,
And the roo died of random lead injection.

Then with a rusty old Bowie he began the attack,
But his balance was tempered by beer.
And he slipped in the blood landing flat on his back,
So he said, “bugger it, I’ll just skin you from here”.

Ted wrestled the carcass like a demon from hell,
Dismembering limbs and things off the roo.
With the guts and the blood it was soon hard to tell,
Just who exactly was skinning who.

With the butchering done Ted was covered in gore,
Jack the Ripper would have spewed at the sight.
Then with the meat tucked away he set off once more,
Looking forward to getting home for a bite.

But at the half way mark the rum had started to tell,
So Ted pulled up in the road for a rest.
With his head against the window into a coma he fell,
With that eerie glass eye staring west.

A passer by stopped to see all was right,
With the car that was parked in mid lane.
But that staring eye, gave him a hell of a fright,
Not to mention all the blood and the brain.

The man flew into town, to tell of the slaughter,
And the ambulance and the police rushed to the scene.
But the cops seeing the mess said it must be murder,
And all agreed it’s the worse case they had seen.

With Ted’s staring glass eye sending chills down the spine,
And the hanging chunks of flesh and bits of liver.
While draped round his neck was a length of intestine,
And an eyeball was stuck to the rear vision mirror.

They fenced off the crime with a mile of yellow tape,
Whilst flashing lights diverted the traffic.
And the rising full moon light the surrounding landscape, 
Making that glass eyed stare even more horrific.

The sergeant radioed a warning throughout the night,
A madman must be in hiding near town.
And do not approach him just shoot him on sight,
Anyone capable of this just had to be put down.

Next at the crime scene a gruesome job lay in store,
The nervous medics could now do their bit.
But the body’s angle, meant that when they opened the door,
They’d have to move bloody quick to catch it.

The catcher was decided when he drew the short straw,
And he cursed his bad luck and his fate.
Then his partner opened the latch and old Ted started to fall,
But he awoke and with a groan sat up straight.

It took twenty minutes to revive that medical man,
The poor fellow’s heart just couldn’t compete.
And the cops that hadn’t fainted, well they all up and ran,
Screaming and wailing in hasty retreat.

And old Ted looked around with his blood matted hair,
And he slurred with a rum stained groan.
You mongrels just woke me and gave me a hell of a scare,
Then he started his ute and drove home.