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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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2153.
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Panic At The Station
There was panic at the station as the horses soon returned
they will never leave behind their trusted place,
barn and sheds and trees on fire and the Southern paddock burned.
Flames as high as watertowers, Satan's face.
Get the youngsters in the wagon, quick, the road will soon be closed
never mind the bloomin' papers and the dough
come Black Fella, start the ute, there is no need to get her hosed
there she comes with all her power, see the glow?
Leave the horses, cannot shift them, and the poultry all the chooks
there is nothing we can save, they all must die
all my photos, steins and persians, the collection of old books
let's get cracking, and please Martha do not cry.
I can tell you, my Black Fella, you have been a loyal drover
and your word has always been a solemn pledge,
but my trust in the creator it is finished, gone, all over
there is nothing that would keep me near the edge.
That a power up in Heaven oversees this great disaster
and he doesn't interfere or even blink,
I shall find amongst the people, black or white another Master
'cause the present one is nothing but a fink.
I can see how starched assessors from the city will arrive
sorry, mate, you are not covered for this loss,
though we're happy you were lucky and came out at least alive
this catastrophy is just a doublecross.
Act of God we call this, really and the policy is void
you may take it up with Him or with the priest
but cheer up, you look so gloomy, quite depressed and well, annoyed
I invite you to the agents' sausage feast.
Get some tucker in your tummy and your mind on other things
have a stubby and some cake, a bit of booze,
there are those who did not make it and their souls grew final wings
it is destiny, but don't you sing the blues.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2154.
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Panty Hose Troubles
Some day she says that she will find
a panty hose to fit her waist.
It's not so much that cute behind,
its contours having been erased
by many years of working hard,
additionally, much modern food
turns into, seemingly, just lard
which always dampens her good mood
to see the ripples of soft jelly
what used to be a handsome belly.
The real problem that we face,
abdominal recalcitrance.
The garment will not stay in place,
a sign of sheer belligerence.
On Tuesday we went off to Meyer
to try the newest import on.
The lady said it must go higher,
and by the way they do not run.
So we went home quite empty-handed
because there wasn't any hose
and common sense at last demanded
that she decline. Instead she chose
a pair of German Lederhosen
with Edelweiss suspenders, true.
When we got home her buns were frozen.
We wrote this story just for you.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2155.
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Paradise Gained
Albert and Hulda lived in style,
they walked each Saturday a mile,
ate vegetables, fruits and bread
but then, they ended up quite dead.
Up to the Pearly gates they flew
St. Peter and his trusted crew
asked questions of the lovely pair
and took them into God's own care,
he showed them to their home in Heaven,
'twas on cloud nine, number eleven.
There were such riches in that house,
so Albert said, my dearest spouse
I can just see how they would give
such luxuries to those who live,
but to the dead, it bogs the mind
I did not know God would be kind.
Upstairs the had a spa and golden taps
outside the pool for morning laps,
a golf course just around the bend
where would this lavish lifestyle end?
St. Peter said, it's all for free
as this is Heaven, take this key
and open to your heart's content
all morsels, sweet and succulent.
But, asked sweet Hulda, if you please
we need be careful of disease,
low fat and buttermilk and soy
cholesterol, the horse of Troy!
No worries, Peter said, you may
eat what you fancy, and you pay
no fees and not with failing health,
as this is Heaven, take the wealth
and do enjoy what you've been given
I know you like the man named Niven,
he is your neighbour, David, yes,
I'll leave you now, and God will bless
the two of you for evermore
Good luck in Golf, I hope your score
will please you as it will the host,
and do come by, we'll have a roast
down near the Northern Star, at two
welcome again, the two of you!
Albert turned to his spouse right then
and said: It's typical of men
you baked those muffins, bran and oats,
took measures, tests and kept your notes.
Had we, the two of us not slaved
and watched our diets, had we braved
our tastes and cravings, it is clear
we could have been in this place here,
in eighty five, if we just had
been less religious and more bad.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2156.
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Paradise lost
A man is a man only if he can,
says the book of all secrets and more.
Looks like Palin was just a brief flash in the pan
just as useless as big fat Al Gore.
See, the polls tell the truth, and McCain's on a slide
there's a stench of old dust in the air,
neither he nor his Northernmost caribou bride
will be given the prized pied-a-terre.
Herbert Nehrlich
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