Monday, 29 October 2007

Wally Frazel

Our Wally was a man of steel,
A sturdy sort of fella
I’ll fight youz all, he’d often shout
No –one would call him yella.

Now ol’ Wal’ he was a legend
All through the mallee scrub
None could beat old Wally
They boasted at the pub.

He’d strut, he’d pout
He’d fire up the bar.
There’d be a fight with Wal they’d shout,
And betting money in the jar.

So a young ‘un sauntered up one arvo
all full of piss and wind.
He’d have a go at the prize money
He spit his hands and grinned.

The money it fair flew around.
The betting it was high.
The locals had seen ol’ Wal’ in action
The young ‘un was bound to die.

But Wally had to be half cut,
Before he’d swing a punch.
So we all chipped in with beer money
The fight set for after lunch.

Then schooners, pots and chasers
All flew across the bar.
And Wal’ he sat and drank the lot
Then began to dance and spar.

Ol’ Wal’ he staggered about a bit
And gave a lofty shout
Giz us another round here matey
Before I punch his lights out.

So after a six pack, 2 rums and a scotch.
Ol’ Wal’he flexed his muscles
And adjusted his crotch.

The young ‘un he’d been watchin’
And takin’ in the scene.
He’d seen how much ol’ Wal’ had drunk
And for fightin’ he was keen.

And Wal’? Well he was itchin
He’s had a drink or two.
The locals watched as he clenched his fists
And smashed the window through.

Then wheelin’ round he spied the boy
And rolled his sleeves up ready.
His eyes they bulged as he grabbed a stubbie
To keep himself right steady.

As the boy stood up to take his place
It was quiet in Clancey’s bar.
Ol’ Wal’ he winked and stood his ground
As the lad stepped up to spar.

There was some fancy footwork
As the boy he sprang about.
But Wal’ he had his measure
As he gave the lad a clout.

The boy he staggered back a bit
Then fell into the fray.
He thumped poor Wal’ right in the eye
It remained shut to the light of day.

With his other eye he then saw red
And lunged with all his might
And grabbed the scrap of a young lad
And head locked him in the fight.

The boy he squirmed, and threw a punch
But none would hit the mark
Then before the crowd, he quieted down
And slumped till all was dark.

He lay quite still
As Wal’,
threw his fists up high
The lad sprawled out upon the floor
We all knew the reason why.

Some brave or stupid schooner drinker
Who didn’t know; poor dope
Asked ol’Wal’ in a gentle voice
Had he ever seen some soap?

We knew the answer to his question.
Ol’ Wal’ was none too clean.
He only washed on Christmas day
the only soap he’d seen.

His breath was foul,
His hair a mess
His trousers were all dirty.
We reckon his teeth
What was left of them
Were last cleaned in 1930

Wally punched the air in victory
His underarms were rank
Big stains circled the shirt he wore
And the atmosphere it stank.

Just then the lad he came around
And said it wasn’t right
Ol’ Wal’ had knocked his out no doubt
But it wasn’t in the fight.

A wins a win
We told the poor young lad.
The money jar had been divvied up
He knew he had been had.

Ol’ Wal’ now with one eye shut
And grinning a toothy grin
Bent down real close and whispered some ‘um
And the lad conceded the win.

Now what he said,
We will never know
But that lad he scampered out
We reckon it wasn’t Wal’s fists that won
But his smell that had the clout.!

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