Introduction

"Rumble Russ" is someone I have known since birth. He is truly a wonderful man, (eccentric, but wonderful). I wrote this poem MANY years ago after this particular incident. He still lives in the same house,(almost 50 years there now,) and he still does all the handy work himself. (you can't keep a good man down!)

Rumble Russ

I now relate a sorry tale, the tale of Rumble Russ,
Who hated calling tradesmen in, he couldn't stand the fuss.
His home stood as a testament to Russ's strident view,
And things were held in place with rusty wire and drums of glue.

The power snapped through vintage lines, the junctions old and weak,
His water ran through antique pipes that brought it from the creek.
"There's nothin' in me ancient home that I can't fix meself!
I've laid down every carpet tile; I've nailed up every shelf.

I hand made all the cupboards, even built the outside stairs,
I grouted all the bathroom tiles, I do me own repairs!"
It happened then, as fate directs, the plumbing went awry,
And Rumble Russ declared to all, he'd give the thing a try.

"It's just a little air lock, nothin' to it!" he decreed,
And hurried underneath the house to do the dire deed.
But down there in the dank and gloom, where grubs and mice reside,
He couldn't get the air lock out, no matter what he tried.

He couldn't raise a trickle, not a drop came dribbling out,
In wrathful ire he grabbed the wrench and gave the thing a clout.
"Be blowed!" he fumed, "What's wrong with you!" he bellowed in despair,
The plumbing gurgled back at him. There's something stuck in there!"

He used a stick to poke and prod, but all he moved was space,
"I'll have to suck it out." He groaned, and set his lips in place.
He gave just one almighty pull; his eyes flew open wide,
As foul and stinking contents took his tonsils for a ride.

In startled shock he let the vacuum in the pipes retract,
The suction gripped not only muck, but both his lips, in fact.
As half the gunge shot through the pipes, so rapidly propelled,
His lips were stretched six inches down, and there they stuck and held.

In panic, he began to yank and wrestle with the hose,
He called for help, but only made odd noises with his nose.
A final tug in desperation made the pipe let go,
The uncorked force it generated gave him quite a throw.

He turned a graceful back-flip, landing neatly in the bog,
And came up spitting putrid slime and rotten bits of frog.
His howls of indignation echoed loudly through the cold,
As Russ emerged with curses fierce, and better left untold.

Now Rumble Russ is back at work, but mates all mind their quips,
And don't ask how the blackened bruise got round his swollen lips.
And what of his confounded pipes? Their fate, you'd never guess:
The plumber came while Russ was out, and fixed the wretched mess!

Copyright; Stringybark
Email: stringybark@hdc.com.au