The cookhouse door knob

Sitting in the dentists waiting room I found myself thinking back to all the other visits I had made to a dentist during my lifetime..one such visit didn’t exactly turn out as planned!

The Cookhouse Door Knob

When In the Aussie outback, many years ago,
I took a job as a jackaroo, far away from rain or snow.
I had a bed in the bunkhouse, drank tea from a battered billy,
And had a horse called Millicent, a very lively filly.

The station was a big one, with cattle, sheep and roo’s,
But I wasn’t used to dust and flies, and using outside loo’s.
I dreamed of being a cowboy, when I was very young,
But the reality was saddle sores, and dust upon my tongue.

And I hadn’t bargained for the snakes, and spiders that could kill,
Or bush tucker the cook prepared, that made me feel quite ill.
But all in all, I coped quite well, I became part of the team,
And with my faithful horse and a mouthful of dust, the boy lived out his dream.

Things were going very well, although at times I missed my home,
Your roots are your roots, and you do miss them, wherever you may roam.
Circumstances Change your life, as I was, about to find,
A swollen jaw and an aching tooth, were to put me in a bind.

The nearest dentist was a day away, so I went to the boss with my plea,
He gave me some pain killing pills and said..sorry..we’re too busy you see
One day there and one day back, this is not the time to go,
See Mick the cook, he’s pulled teeth before, it’ll only take a mo.

So I ended up, sitting in a chair, while Mick peered in my mouth,
And I have to say, any courage I had, rapidly headed south.
The pain in my tooth was getting worse, my mouth was opened wide,
Then Mick produced some fishing line, which around my tooth he tied.

Don’t worry son, he said to me, as he opened up the door,
Have faith in me, because I have done, this lots of times before.
So I held on to my courage and I managed to stifle a sob,
And watched with horror, as the fishing line, was tied around the knob

I had a sinking feeling, which was deep inside my gut,
As Mick shouted..GERONIMO..and slammed the hut door shut.
When I awoke, eventually, I was tucked up in a bed,
And a pretty nurse, in a uniform, was bathing my sore head.

We didn’t have much hope for you,when we first saw you arrive,
So welcome back, we’re really glad, that you are still alive.
When we saw the size of the bump on your brow, it made us give a whistle,
That knob must have pulled, right off of the door, just like a guided missile.

So the flying doctor, was scrambled to you,
You were out like a light, all the time that you flew.
Your boss wasn’t happy, he said..don’t come back,
Your gear is all with you, it’s stowed in your pack.

But the cause of my troubles, was still giving me pain,
So I went to the dentist, who gave me cocaine.
And he laughed and laughed, as he got on with the job,
And so ends the tale, of the cookhouse door knob.

© Martin Silvester 22/4/15