A Collection of Scattered Poems

Little Abbo Bloke


The Little Abbo bloke
THE LITTLE ABBO BLOKE

He hailed from up the north somewhere
Way off the beaten track
They referred to him as 'nigger'
Or with sarcasm, 'Mr. Black'

He was taunted for his colour
And though it wasn't fair
He took the insults in his stride
And didn't seem to care

There was not a man who knew his name
It didn't bother him
But the children loved him dearly
And they knew his name was Jim

This was not his aboriginal name
Just a name he'd picked on speck
Trying to pronounce his proper name
Could wreck a white man's neck

Though Bill and Ted meant little harm
They often shared a joke
About this friendly fellow
This 'little Abbo bloke'

But their humour turned to anger
And their manner icy cool
When they learned this 'Abbo mongrel'
Was teaching Sunday School

They called a public meeting
And the townfolk had no doubt
That for the welfare of their children
They had to kick him out

They held a demonstration
But the preacher stern and grim
Said that Jimmy was a saintly man
And he was backing him

Hatred festered in the town
And in the pubs at night
Mere mention of the 'Abbo' word
Was sure to start a fight

Bill and Ted slumped on the bar
And swigged their pint of ale
"We have to form a plan." Said Bill
"A plan that will not fail."

Then Ted announced his darkest thought
"We have to save our town."
"Our church is now a laughing stock;
Let's burn the damn thing down."

Bill slurred his staunch agreement
"I'll grab a can of fuel."
"Our kids don't need no Abbo
Teaching bloody Sunday School!"

They soaked the front with petrol
Then with a drunken lurch
Ted struck a match and flicked it
At the great doors of the church

The townfolk quickly gathered
And they stared in disbelief
As flames engulfed the building
They screamed and cried their grief

"What's wrong with all these buggers?"
Bill slurred his words to Ted.
"We've done 'em all a favour
"-- I'm going home to bed."

But Bill's wife stood before him
Her eyes were fierce and wide
"Some mongrel's set the church ablaze;
Our kids are all inside!"

"That can't be true." Bill muttered
"There was not a soul in sight."
"And who the hell has Sunday School
On bloody Friday night?"

It was the preacher man who answered
"It's a special little treat;
The 'Abbo' tells them stories
To keep kids off the street."

With buckets, pots, and billy cans
The townfolk fought the flame
Though Bill and Ted tried bravely
They knew they were to blame

The church would soon be ashes
But at what a fearful cost
The preacher slowly shook his head
"I fear that all is lost."

Just then they heard a window smash
And through the hazy smoke
They saw the smouldering figure
Of the little Abbo bloke

As flames leapt all about him
They heard him bravely shout
"Get closer to the window,
And I'll pass your children out."

His hands were burnt and blistered
But he didn't show his pain
The townfolk quickly gathered
And formed a human chain

The 'Abbo' showed no sign of fear
Nor paused to take a breath
And through his toil each mother's child
Was saved from certain death

And to this day in Ganganeen
A tiny town out back
You'll find that Sunday School is taught
By 'Reverend' Jimmy Black

And the man who once was taunted
Doesn't have a single care
For the townfolk really love him
And they even made him Mayor

He's respected as a hero
And a special kind of bloke
And woe betide the stranger
Who tells a coloured joke

K.D. Abbott © 2007


NOTE:
You are invited to make copies of any poem on this site
for your personal and private use providing the details of
copyright are included.
The poems are not to be used for commercial purposes or
displayed on any website.



All poems and short stories on this site are protected and
Copyrighted to K. D Abbott 2007. © All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2024 Just Verse. K. D. Abbott.
All rights reserved on poems and short stories.

Just Verse      K9 Watch
Visit KDA Cross Stitch