The dozy punter took a half step back,
He blinked and scratched his ear, for abuse he could handle
And madmen on wheels were a fear that you could see,
But crumpets and tea? Were they spiked? And buckshee?
He swallowed once more the dust of the road,
His shoulders collapsed in a heap;
Gocha' mate, you're a champ, came the ragged reply;
Where's the loo?

Stumpy twisted his mouth in the hint of a smile
And ducked his head under the tap;
The dozer was right, the day had begun,
A cockatoo squarked, some light slanted in through the trees,
Steam hissed from the kettle, the crumpets smelled warm,
And his visitor scraped up a stool. Then just for an instant
Both lifted their gaze, both men met in that moment, amazed.

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