Anthony W. Pahl
The White Kid ~ circa 1960G’DAY
Jacky ‘n’ me, we was cobbers
When we was jus’ billy lids
Where you’d find one you’d sure find the other,
Bluddy oath, you could bet your last quid.
As cobbers we was dinkum ‘n’ true blue
We stuck together like nothing on earth
We’d roam through the dry mallee scrubland
And we’d play in the Murray’s sweet dirt.
The rest of the kids thought we was bonkers
But always seemed to want to be near
We’d climb up the red limestone rock face
Where the Murray had worn the cliffs sheer
We’d build wurleys on the banks of the river
And even sometimes out in the scrub
And often Jacky’s family would ask us
To stay ‘n’ cop some of their grub.
You see, Jacky, me mate, was an abo
And a ridgey-didge, fair dinkum bloke
‘Coz when you only seen eight birthdays
Don’ much matter if you’re the colour of coke.
Jacky’s clan ‘n’ his kith ‘n’ his kin folk
Accepted me like one of their own
Though me skin was as pink as an earthworm
They always made me feel right at home.
Jacky ‘n’ me was great mates
Till I bluddy grew up ‘n’ left home
Then the white people with skin just like mine
Told me, “Don’t throw the abo no bone!”
©Copyright February 18, 2002 by Anthony W. Pahl