If you have been around the showground,
In the days now gone and went,
I am sure your memory will recall,
The old time Boxing, Tent.
They turned up at your local show,
Featured boxers from the past,
And starry eyed young Koori kids,
For whom the die has been cast.
There were several of these boxing tents,
Banners bright, though sometimes drab,
Sporting all the well known names,
Sharman, Bell and Les McNab.
The board stood high above the crowd,
With bell and big bass drum,
The tent pugs in check dressing gowns,
Couldn’t care if the crowds don’t come.
The tent boss grabs the microphone,
Lines the fighters on his right,
And calls out to the swelling crowd,
“Is anyone game to fight?”
There is always someone in the crowd,
A Dutch courage “WANNABE”,
But the tent boss shows no interest,
Because he’s looking for the “GEE”,
The “GEE” is the bloke in the crowd,
And is working for the tent,
Acts tough and says he’s local,
And a good one’s heaven sent.
“Give ’em a rally on the bells and drums”,
“A good fight will earn five quid”,
“Who’ll take on the Koori boys”,
“Or tackle the ICE CREAM KID”.
The Ice cream kid’s a white-faced lad,
As bloody skinny as can be,
He’s the boxer all set up,
To match it with the “GEE”.
“Give us a go at the skinny kid”,
The “Gee” yells from the back,
“I’ll knock the little bugger that far,
He’ll need a taxi back”.
The bells and drums are booming,
As up the challengers climb,
Down below they’re pouring in,
At, a couple of bob a time.
The “Gee’s” a really surly bloke,
Needling like he always did,
And soon he’s getting up the nose,
Of the pasty faced Ice Cream Kid
The Kid knows the fights a set-up,
Every time he fights the “Gee”,
It’s supposed to be a four rounder,
And he takes a dive in three.
All the other bouts are done,
Amid the cheering and the raving,
A couple of genuine “Donnybrooks”,
And there is blood upon the shavings.
“Ladies and gents, the very last bout,
Is worth a good five quid,
So! Give the local a rousing cheer,
As he tackles, the Ice Cream Kid”.
Soon the Boss is taking bets,
The same as he always did,
And he’s offering all enormous odds,
The “Gee’ll” beat the Kid.
The Ice Cream Kid’s a quiet young bloke,
But, can fight a bit when riled,
The head butts and the eye gouge,
He took them all and smiled.
Soon the third round is near,
Now he’s supposed to pull the plug,
An unrehearsed roundhouse right,
Whacks the “Gee” fair on the lug.
His eyes go round like a poker machine,
And stars come out his ears,
Then the shavings come toward him,
And he vaguely hears the jeers.
On the way down he cops a left,
And he’s out all crisp and clean,
The punters are looking for the tent boss,
But, he’s nowhere to be seen.
At last the “Gee” is wide- awake,
And bellows, “I’ve been tricked,
The reason you’re called the Ice Cream Kid,
Is because you’re supposed to get LICKED”
© Dudley C. Pye A.M, J.P.
[from the story, Six of the Best]