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Tom Barker
Joondalup, Australia

September 1938 when ah jined the Argylls,
new Recruits had jist got their new suits.
A kilt en’ a sporran wi’ six tassles,
an’ diced hose wi spats but nae boots.

If the heelan’ shoes dednie fit snugly,
they couldnie possibly drap off.
Cos the strap from the spats wus aye designed.
an’ it wuz aye bliddy dangerous jist ti coff.

But that first Christmas Dinner in 38,
wi’ turkey, Christmas pud and cream.
The Orderly Officer tapped on the table’s end,
and it was like the beginning of a bad dream.

All eyes hed swung to the table end,
to observe the Officer’s Badger sporran.
It had climbed to the rim of the dish,
and was busy creating a new warren.

“Any complaints?” asked the Officer chap,
who was now red in the face.
And under his tash muttered, “Down yu fool!
Or termorrer yu’ll be oot wi’ the trash."

The lad at the table end stood and answered,
“There are nae complaints, Sir, I beg.”
Then as he sat down and the Officer moved on,
the lad mused, “But a Badger wi’ an extra leg?”

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