Clod Fight

What's going on? My brother Barry asked of me
"Stick up your head, and tell us what you see"
We'd built a fort of old "Tea Chest's" and sod
To fight a "Clod" war with the "Belchambers" mob

Leith's and Belchambers, both always right
Seldom saw things in a common light
And at chance meetings of our clans
It would often turn to fists from outstretched hands

Our oldest brother's plan we thought would work
He proposed a fight with ploughed up lumps of dirt
"Clods" were soft and cause of injury held no fear
It was to be a mock war in our paddock rear

To "make things fair" and even out the ages spread
Our oldest brother Terry had got it in his head
To be on the Belchambers side and negotiate
Any chance of it turning to a war of hate

So when Terry's "half brick", thought to be a clod
Struck my head as instructed by Barry, up I bob
The fear of "Mum" brought helping hands in strides
As blood from my head poured down both sides

"Thought it was clod", brother Terry pleaded
"Trust Don to stick his head where it isn't needed"
Off to the Colac Hospital by the family car
Mum "grateful for small mercies" it wasn't far

They didn't need to get the spelling of my name right
The staff there all knew Don Leith by sight
They'd stitched me up so many times before
For repeat visits I held the highest score

My brothers rib me and they often claim
It's the reason for my scrambled brain
But I've an excuse for sometimes not acting sane
Who among you can claim the same!

Copyright; DonL
Email: Donl@computermail.net