TIKI COOTES
That’s Not Cricket Nor the Rata Flower in Bloom
I was working over Golden Bay
In the late fifties in my teens
I knocked around some hard cases
Not crooks by any means
Now we were full of life
And sometimes full of beer
And mostly full of beans
And of trouble try to steer
Anyhow this Friday night
We’d all gone to Collingwood
The pub wouldn’t serve us
We got beer just where we could
We managed to acquire some Harley’s
That tasted like home brew
And to get all kind of groggy
Well it only took a few
It got to Sunday quickly
We decided to go back
25 miles to Mangarakau
Along a twisting bushy track
We had the odd ale aboard
To guide us on our way
We even had some Snapper
Freshly caught that day
At an urgent call of nature
Just past Pakawau Flat
We decided to play cricket
With a snapper for a bat
We even found a tennis ball
Belonging to someone’s mutt
With a pine hedge for a wicket
I hollered ‘batter up’
I swung back my snapper
To get a good fine edge
The snapper shot out my hands
And landed in the hedge
One guy joking asked me
As at his ‘bat’ did grip
Would fielding in the hedge
Be just like playing slip
Some were quite proficient
Some showed style and dash
Some had no fin going
Others had a bash
One said I’ll stick to rugby
As at another hit he falls
Can’t play bloody cricket
Anyhow rugby don’t have scales
The cricket test was ended
We appealed against terrain
And our scaly cricket bats
Were snapper once again
If we had been clairvoyant
With futuristic flashes
We would have seen ourselves
Paying for the ashes
At another call of nature
Much further up the scrub
We stopped and all got out
When someone mentioned ‘grub’
I was feeling peckish
And being not the only one
I set fire to a gorse bush
To cook the snapper on
The fire soon got out of hand
And quickly it did rage
Burning up the scrub and bush
Lasting five whole days
They traced the fire to us guys
For later in the week
Along comes a Policeman
And to us he’d like to speak
The cop asked us questions
About the smoke and gloom
“What’s that glow on the ridge up there?"
“Just the rata flower in bloom"
Well the answer didn’t please him
And to make it understood
I found out what a ‘flat foot’ is
He kicked my arse real good
And so in well pressed suits
Up the courthouse we made tracks
We got all fined forty quid
For being pyromaniacs
Well whatever that there meant
For I was just a pup
It had something to do with burning
Well I was sure burned up
Two things I learned when I was young
Two things I learned off pat
Don’t use a gorsebush for a skillet
Or a snapper for a bat
Oh yes
Or not to cheek a policeman
If at all his feet are flat
Poem © Tiki Cootes
Poem © Tiki Cootes
(from Tiki Cootes’ There’s Some Hard Cases About!, John McIndoe, Dunedin , 1979)
Good to know about the Tiki Cootes was born in Nelson, also the information is also great to read.
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Original Dissertation Writing
l knew Tiki well, he worked in a craft shop that we ran in Pine Creek, Northern Territory, Australia, l witnessed him meet a lovely lass, whom he shared tender years with before he passed away.
ReplyDeleteDuring his time in Pine Creek, he carved many outstanding wooden peices, a Baptismal Font for the Church, support beams at the Lazy Lizard Bar, and the Entrance gates to the local school, we loved his songs, many he wrote himself, he is sadly missed, by swampyro.
Here is a link to some of his carvings.
ReplyDeletehttp://s27.photobucket.com/albums/c174/swampyro/Tiki%20Cootes%20Carvings%20Pine%20Creek%20NT/