The Swagmen And The Sauce

'Twas just on dark upon the edge of a quiet country town,
two swagmen came a-tramping down the street;
now there was this old-timer who knew every trick around,
and his new-chum mate with blistered aching feet.

Now, to say that they were hungry, it would understate the fact -
they hadn't had a decent meal in days;
there's precious little comforts in the backblocks they bad tracked -
hospitality just had not crossed their ways.

But this looks like a friendly little place, the old one thought -
it shouldn't be too hard to bum a meal;
they couldn't go and buy one for their purse was rather short -
could be a case of either beg or steal.

But the old-timer reckoned be knew how to cadge a feed -
to his friend, he says: "Watch closely and you'll see:
there's things a man just has t' do when in a time of need -
if I score a meal, then do the same as me,"

They came up to a row of homes - they all looked much the same...
verandah lights and mailbox at the gate;
and there's the smell of evening meals a-cooking on the flame -
the pangs of hunger start to agitate.

The old bloke slowly walked ahead, his eyes down on the dirt,
and found some old horse droppings at his feet;
and he put two dry knobs into the pocket of his shirt,
then walked up to the first house in the street.

And so he knocks upon die door, and stood there in the light;
the lady of the house came in due course
and asked him what he wanted and he answers most polite',
"Evenin' Missus...could ya spare a man some sauce?"

"Sauce! and just what kind of sauce would please a man like you?"
"It doesn 't really matter much," says he,
"Worcestershire, tomato sauce, or even bar-b-que -
well, any sauce,,.it's all just sauce to me."

"Then tell me, my good man" says she "and why would you need sauce?"
he fumbles in his pocket for reply,
and he produced there in his hand the droppings of the horse,
and said: "To spice me meal...it's rather dry."

Her face, it turned to horror: "You poor man...you can't eat that!
and to see you hungry just would not be right.
You need a proper dinner for a man out on the pat -
you come inside and eat with us tonight."

The new-chum from the shadows was a witness to this lark -
he figured this was hunger's antidote;
and so he walks up to the pile of horse dung in the dark -
put two knobs in the pocket of his coat.

He knocks upon the next house, and he stood there in the light;
the lady of the house came - in due course -
and asked him what he wanted and he answers most polite;
"Evenin'missus...could you spare a man some sauce?"

"Sauce! and just what kind of sauce would please someone like you?"
"It doesn't really matter much," says he,
"Worcestershire, tomato sauce, or even bar-b-que -
well, any sauce is all the same to me."

"Then, tell me my good man" says she "and why would you need sauce?"
He fumbles in his pocket for reply,
and he produced there in his hand the droppings of the horse
and said: "To spice me meal...it's rather dry."

His taste buds were in overdrive awaiting her reply;
he's thinking of the roast upon her table;
and so she says: "You can't eat those, poor man, they're much too dry!
Go down and get some fresh ones from the stable!"

Copyright; Graham Fredriksen