You may eat your caviar and your fillet mignon too, And wear a serviette in case you spill the stew, But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten Kangaroo, Cooked up with a damper and a nice hot cup of brew.
You may eat your calamari battered and deep-fried, With lemon squeezed on top of it with white wine on the side, But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten Barramundi, In the evening after church on a warm and balmy Sunday.
You may eat your roast leg lamb with lots of baked potatoes, With gravy garnished on the top with juicy ripe tomatoes, But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten crocodile, Although it's tough and you might chew awhile.
You may eat your giant lobster with some Thousand Island sauce, Which is just a small proportion of meal known as three course, But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten johnnycake, Cooked upon the campfire coals neath the gum trees by the lake.
Cupie said
08:34 AM Oct 22, 2008
IN A BUCKET
When you're weeing in a bucket In your van really late at night You steer softly down the bucket side So your wife won't get a fright. But for her it's quite different She can't steer her thing at all And when the wee wee hits the bottom It sounds like NiagraFalls.
And she sits there and she giggles At the noise she has to make For she knows that now she's finished Half the bloody camp's awake!!
-- Edited by Cupie at 08:36, 2008-10-22
dave06 said
10:37 AM Oct 22, 2008
tell her to ball up a bit of toilet tissue before doing the night time jig, place that in the bottom of the bucket or portaloo first and it wont wake the camp, we were in tassie back a while ago when a couple with three kids on board woke the camp with their nightime shenanigans, no wonder they call it "bonking" pots and pans were rattling and shaking in their old motorhome, they snuck out very early the next morning, but didnt escape us early risers, about ten of us, standing around the remnants of the fire, cheers and applause followed them on their way, the wife was ducked right down below the dash poor thing
'' You don't know what you're missing''
And wear a serviette in case you spill the stew,
But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten Kangaroo,
Cooked up with a damper and a nice hot cup of brew.
You may eat your calamari battered and deep-fried,
With lemon squeezed on top of it with white wine on the side,
But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten Barramundi,
In the evening after church on a warm and balmy Sunday.
You may eat your roast leg lamb with lots of baked potatoes,
With gravy garnished on the top with juicy ripe tomatoes,
But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten crocodile,
Although it's tough and you might chew awhile.
You may eat your giant lobster with some Thousand Island sauce,
Which is just a small proportion of meal known as three course,
But you don't know what you're missing till you've eaten johnnycake,
Cooked upon the campfire coals neath the gum trees by the lake.
When you're weeing in a bucket
In your van really late at night
You steer softly down the bucket side
So your wife won't get a fright.
But for her it's quite different
She can't steer her thing at all
And when the wee wee hits the bottom
It sounds like NiagraFalls.
And she sits there and she giggles
At the noise she has to make
For she knows that now she's finished
Half the bloody camp's awake!!
-- Edited by Cupie at 08:36, 2008-10-22
-- Edited by dave06 at 12:49, 2008-10-22