Introduction

He's wasn't the kind of farmhand the farmer was expecting.

THE GAY FARMHAND

I rang the C.E.S. and said, “Slap me up an ad
I can’t run this farm myself, I need some help real bad!
So rustle me up a farmhand, one who’s good at fencin’
Oh, and he must not drink or smoke or swear, I s’pose I’d better mention”

Well I waited home all morning, pacing up and down the floor
And just as I had given up, a fist rapped on my door
I thought, you bloody beauty, they’ve dug me up a bloke
But when I threw the door back, well I bloody nearly choked

He stood there in a floral shirt, hands upon his hips
Permed hair past his collar, and lipstick on his lips
He carried a paisley saddle and a little embroidered bag
I thought to myself, Oh my gawd, this bloke’s a flamin' f....funny looking farmhand

He said, “Hi, my name is Toni, I’ve come here for the job”
I stood there flabbergasted, then foolishly opened my gob
I said, “Only Poofs and Movie Stars wear earrings in their ear....
And I can’t remember seeing a bloody movie of yours this year!”

“Oh, that’s discrimination!” he squealed, “This is the Land of the Free!
And nobody else applied for the job, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Well, he had me over a barrel (....not literally of course!)
I said “I hope you can fix bloody fences, and know how to ride a horse”

“Ohh, I can do lots and lots of things!” Toni said to me
I mumbled “If you could act like a bloke, then I’d go to buggery!”
Yeah, well I shouldn’t have said that either, but my head was kind of reeling
Out here in the bush mate, men are men, except a few sheep farmers from New Zealand

So I slapped myself around the dial to bring myself to my senses
I said “Grab your saddle and get on a horse and I’ll show you these broken fences”
So off on the flint hard track we rode at a casual loping pace
Toni sat up top the dapple grey with a smile plastered over his face

I kept right away from the neighbour's fence and down the middle I went
‘Cause if anyone saw my new farmhand, I’d die through embarrassment
Then to pick up the pace, I grabbed the reins, slapped leather against the flank
“OHH, luck horse!” yelled Toni, “You certainly know how to spank!”

Now, it’s a shock for a bush bred bloke like meself to encounter a fella like Toni
So I turned my head around backwards, to keep an eye on this poonce on his pony
If he had any ‘Funny Business’ in mind then I would not give him the chance
But because my head was turned backwards, I never saw the branch!

It hit me in the back of the scone with a fearsome bloody force
Knocked me backwards, bum over head and straight off the back of my horse
I rolled towards a steep incline, then down the side I fell
And Murphy’s Law came into play as I fell down the old farm well

I lay there battered and broken, a bruised and bloodied wreck
I thought, ‘my day started off by breaking my pride, now it’s finished by breaking my neck!’
Then I looked to the sunlit lip of the well, only to bloody see
Toni’s ugly, pooncy mug staring down at me

“Ohh, are you alright you poor old dear!” he shouted out to me
“Here, grab these leather undies.” I screamed, “Go to Buggery!”
“No, I’m trying to pull you out, “ he said, then gaily winked his eye
I said, “You ain’t pulling me nowhere, mate! I’m staying down here ’till I die!”

Well, he lassoed me out with his panty hose, and saved me from my fate
Threw me over the rump of his horse, headed home at a casual gait
But by this time the neighbours had gathered, to cast ridicule at my pains
“Hey look, a horse’s arse on a horse’s arse with a horse’s hoof at the reins!”

So he took me home, and on my bed, he laid my battered hide
He said, “You just rest, dear, I’ll do the chores,” and then flitted on outside
And that’s the last I saw of Toni, ’cause next day when I awoke
There on my bedside cupboard was a little floral note

“Hi,” wrote Toni, “I’ve gone away, I know you don’t like me!
I’ve fixed your fences and done your chores and made you a pot of tea
I’ve gone to greener pastures, now, for I’m not your idea of a man
I’m going to where I’m appreciated for WHO not WHAT I am!”

Hell, I’d never felt so guilty, I wanted to crawl away and hide
Until I pulled my boots on and bloody walked outside
He’d strung my flamin’ fences up like a fancy macraméd noodle
And me poor old faithful cattle dog was clipped like a pooncy poodle

He’d painted the dunny nipple pink, and painted the farm ute beige
He’d shampooed and blow dried all my sheep, I flew into a rage
My tractor had turned to a Mardi Gras float, so I headed inside in a huff
To find that pot of tea he’d made was that chamomile bloody stuff!

So, again I rang the C.E.S. and said “Send me out a BLOKE!
One who drinks and swears and farts and loves to have a smoke
So they sent another farmhand who was rough and tough and mean
And stood at the door and said to me. “Gidday, my name is....Eileen!”

Copyright; Neil McArthur
from the book 'Tragic Tales from the Thong Factory'
Email: macpoet@iprimus.com.au