Although no doubt this Queensland lad
Was a larrikin through and through
He really couldn’t be called bad
Though he was often in the poo:
Minor misdeeds you’d have to say,
None violent or disturbed the peace –
More reckless, such as on his way
Home bound from detention release.
Passed an old house, classic design,
Stilted with louvred verandah –
Out front four mango trees in line
Plus of course, a jacaranda.
He’d noticed this not far from school
When mangoes began to ripen;
And though he managed to stay cool,
Each day his taste buds would tighten.
A gap in the fence found near where
One fruit laden branch hung so low
Was just too tempting - he would dare
To take a fruit and quickly go.
Heavily ripe with rich red hue
The fruit warm and firm as detached;
Goal accomplished and he was through,
Ready for home with mango snatched.
Now for retreat, soon for a bite….
Then louvre rattle – “Ere, what’s this?
Knock off my mangoes? That’s not right!”
(Not again; here’s one more crisis).
But a change - a gleam in the eye:
“Go round the back, pick up a sack -
Fill it up full – glad you came by;
There’ll be more – make sure you come back.
I need a hand, a bright young lad;
You clear them trees and don’t be slack.
The noise and smell fair drive me mad
When them flying foxes attack!”