THE SHOES OF THE SIDESHOW BOYI was a wandering teenage bloke,Callow mild and meek, Working for Georgie Wooley, For just a couple of quid a week. I pushed a little kid's Carousel, Heard the shooting gallery crack, Slept on tarps and under trucks, And tried to save a “Zack”. I didn't have much clobber, Just a few bits, folded neat, The most I really wished for, Was something decent for my feet! I had a pair of Dunlop sandshoes, They had been with me for a while, My efforts to try and keep them white, Made Georgie's missus smile. We worked South Aussies outback shows, Finished up in Orroroo, It was in the window of the Co-op, That I spotted the pair of, shoes.  They were two-toned ones of brown and white,A real princely pair of brogues, They must have been there quite a while, For that style was not in vogue. I sought advice from Georgie's missus, She said,” I think you're bloody daft”, “Who do you bloody think you are?” “Jimmy Cagney or George Raft?” It mattered not that Vera said, I was a stupid bloody kid! The thing that had me worried, Was they cost five bloody quid! Well! I had a fiver tucked away, In my cardboard case, not spent, So! I liberated it from the case, Kept under the stretcher in the tent. I hurried on back to the Co-op, The shoes still there behind the glass, Once this last five quid is gone, I'm on the bones of my bloody arse. I stood in front of the counter, In thongs with toes exposed, Said, “Here mate! Cop this fiver”. “ I'll take those two-toned Brogues”. He handed me the princely pumps, I squeezed them on me feet, They really didn't fit that well, I'll have 'em stretched and they'll be sweet. I wore the brogues to the cobbler, Four doors down the left hand side, The gangster two-tones hurt so much, I bloody nearly cried. The cobbler said to leave them, He'll give 'em a stretch a day or so, I said, “Mate ! I have to leave tonight”, “Orroroo's a one -day show”. “Son, I'll tell you how to stretch 'em”, “To make them fit your feet”, “Slip on down to the produce store”, “And buy a couple of pounds of wheat”. He said to stand the two-tones up, And pack some wheat in tight, Then fill 'em up with water, Then let 'em soak a couple of nights. I stood 'em in a Kero tin, Made sure they were upright, Rammed the wheat in with a broomstick, Poured hot water in late that, night. Left Orroroo early next morning, Well before the break of day, What matters now is the very next show, It's a good days drive away. It must have been a couple of weeks, Georgie's missus, deep in thought, Says, ”Titch! I've just been thinkin'”, “Where's those gangster Brogues you bought?” “Holy bloody mackerel!” the piercing cry rang out, Sleeping Georgie woken by the din, His missus says, “You ain't seen nothin' yet!” “Wait till he looks inside the tin!” My arm plunged in the Kero tin, And pulled out the two-toned Brogues, Wheat was growing in twelve- inch strands, Proudly sprouting from the toes. The rammed in wheat had swollen up, From split stitches the two-tones laughed, There was so much bloody foliage, You could feed a horse with the chaff. My efforts to stretch the two-tones, Was a bloody fair dinkum farce? All I've got left is the sandshoes, And I'm on the bones of me bloody arse. |
