Here's the tale of big Bill Grunter,
who never was your average punter.
Neither by his words or creed,
nor his presence; large indeed.
Weighing more than 90 kegs:
mad man mountain on long legs.
Like most other mountain men,
liked mountain woman, now and then.
Bill loved speed boats, and ski's and swimmin'
He loved fast cars, and faster women.
But life's fast lane was one he'd rue;
he copped a speeding fine or two.
Bill loved his Rugby, after the game.
The clubhouse never was the same.
As clubmen go Bill had few peers.
As pubmen go Bill was all ears.
He had a wicked humourous sense.
Mischief was not his soul defence.
Bill's love of steak was almost cannibal.
He was the biggest party animal.
Bill loved his music; lyrics and tune.
He learnt guitar so he could croon.
He loved his tucker. Bill loved his grub.
He loved to drink meals at the pub.
I had never seen him glum.
And just as well; he lived on rum.
For most, this juice just makes them fight.
He'd nought to prove, despite his height.
Never scared to act the goose,
he really let it all hang loose.
To set his legend beyond all doubt;
he really let it all hang out.
If in fine form he'd dance and sing.
Before being married he'd show his ring.
But all those folk that really knew him,
couldn't help but be drawn to him.
He was not tarred with the brush
of all that academic gush.
His world was more of fun and action.
Commonsense his main attraction.
But since Bill had been a lad,
there was one thing that made him glad;
Farming was his special gift.
Like a dog who's bum is sniffed
Big Bill just couldn't get enough
even when the times got tough.
When things are tough the tough get going
and so he set himself to sewing.
For farmers plough and farmers sew;
and all the while the grass will grow.
One day it happened! Yes, it did!
He married a girl, then raised a kid.
The big guy settling down? Oh, brother!
First one kid, but then another!
Who would have thought? It's quite a shock.
The kids? Chips off the old man's bloke?
For that I guess we'll have to wait.
Good luck. Good on ya. Bye old mate.
(c) MrsMyth, TJ McGowan
