The Old Bugle call

When I was just a littlin
barely 4 feet tall
I found Dad's Army Bugle
Behind the Firewall

Out in the old Porch
wedged in between the brick
I spied this marvellous object
made my ears surely prick

Twas Dad's old Bugle
from his Army Day's
I had never seen before
or heard it's eeerie praise

At first I started blowing
till I was quite blue in the face
Dad told me there was a trick
to render it's call in place

I did surely practice
over and over again
till I had a feel of it
making the notes quite plain
 

It took the wind out me sails
practising long and hard
till Mother sick of the racket
told me to get out in the yard

My Brother and I
Took turns spitting into it's reed
if we came too close for comfort
we took off at great speed

Poor Mother's tolerance
wasn't like My Dad's
she swore and cussed at us
reckon she needed ear pads

Well, that didn't deter us
the last post or bust
we determined to do Dad proud
perfection was a must

I still recall those precious days
Me Dad laughing at our try's
nowadays, we have memories
in between the distant sighs

Dad is far across the ditch
in the land of the long white cloud
we're here in the land of OZ
Still remembering, when we did him proud

I can see that look of happiness
etched into his loving smile
and I would row a thousand miles
to see him for just a little while

Tis funny how the little things
bring back memories so dear
like the days we played the last post
till we thought we were crystal clear!!

It dosen't matter that most the time
we made an unholy racket
but if I had my time again
I'd play it, wearing the Camo Jacket.

Slouch hat on me head
marching on down the mall
With my Dad's hand in mine
to the good ole Bugle call!!

Ch'erie de Perrot
Copyright 11/4/2010
CAL Copyright Australia Ltd
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