Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “ Four “.

I’m up the bush this week so I phoned in the poem.  Jon had Georgia Fields and the Atticus quartet, that’s where the four comes from (thank you for asking)  in the studio this week. They were excellent.

 

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:
[audio:JVG_Poem20120408.mp3]

Also have a listen to the tracks on the new EP “Once We Were Kings Of The World


Four

Neville was a postman almost all his working life
Didn’t earn a fortune but it kept him out of strife

One evening in the pub, primed by several beers
He began to reminisce about the highlights of those years

Neville’s tone grew solemn, not without a hint of pride
“In the service of the public, four times I nearly died”

“The first, a truck on Barkly Street; Barkly Street and Gray”
“A difference of opinion as to who was giving way”

“A broken arm and collarbone, bruised ribs and two black eyes”
“The last attempt cutting off a bike that truckie ever tries”

“The next, involved a dog down on Walkers Road in Lara”
“Not a Rottweiler or Pit Bull, but a three legged Chihuahua”

“That runt caught in my spokes, threw me head first cross the bars”
“If the stop sign hadn’t stopped me, the next stop was the cars”

“My third close call, a parcel, to a house in Taylors Lakes”
“Some fruitcake tried to use the mail to smuggle Carpet Snakes”

“One escaped, slid down my shorts and started to explore”
“A woman kindly gave a hand – which leads to number four”

“Her husband found us prostrate with his wife’s hand down my pants”
“I started to explain but I never got the chance”

“His wife cried “God, it’s moving” hubby didn’t seem amused”
“He kicked me twice, killed one snake, the other badly bruised”

“But it all got sorted out and I lived to tell the tale”
“No snake or dog or truck stopped me delivering the mail”

“It wasn’t cars or animals that got me in the end”
“Some bureaucrat nailed me with one stroke of the pen”

“After forty years on pushbikes, I told ‘em where to shove their motor”
“Next thing I was pensioned off, “In excess of quota”

Old Neville ordered one more beer, the usual dash of lime
Waved goodbye and left for what proved the final time

Admiring someone’s letterbox, overly engrossed
He was cleaned up by a bright red van, you guessed; Australia Post

His coffin was a cardboard box, “Care of heaven” the address
His friends chipped in to buy the stamps and sent him off express

Came back “Return to sender” “No Nevilles living here”
“Suggest you try in Hades” But the postage was too dear

So they sent Nev down to sorting where they had him re-assessed
The Dead Letter Office, Nev was finally laid to rest

© Copyright 2012 Ian Bland

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