As I heard the story years ago, Robin spoke in his best Ten Quid Pom plummy voice when John touched his forelock ...
John busking at Eddy Avenue, Central, (BMC Archives, photo courtesy Dale Dengate)
and I always dropped a coin in that battered old hat whenever I met John on the street and he interrupted his busking to talk, in the hope others would do the same. And don't let me get started on those who take photos/videos of buskers without contributing ...
THE
BRICK AND THE OLD TROUT
© Robin
Connaughton 26/08/2018
I was thinking last
week of my old mate, John Dengate;
Poet, artist and
singer, a wordsmith of note.
And, dare it be
said, a man of sweet malice,
When he served
politicians with a quotable quote.
When I worked in at
Central, I’d often see John.
He busked Eddy
Avenue, often as not.
Back to the park, he
played his tin whistle;
A nice little act in
a well paying spot.
John had no peer in
the fine art of busking.
With old flannels
and jacket, the collar turned up
To keep out cold
winds, and the occasional shower.
He looked an old
digger, somewhat down on his luck.
Whenever I saw him,
down by the Arches,
I’d stop for a
while, and we’d have a good yack.
About pollies, his
teeth, and the evils of bookies.
On leaving, I’d
toss some small coins in his hat.
It became a set
joke, professional manners;
After all, I was
taking up time on his patch.
I could hit his old
hat with a coin from the gutter,
Though sometimes
he’d save the day with a slips catch.
Then came the day of
the Brick and The Old Trout.
I had tossed John a
dollar, it made a nice clink,
When a voice close
behind said, “you’re giving him too much.”
“You’ll only
encourage his addiction to drink.”
Behind me there
stood a tall, bony woman,
Blue-rinsed,
overdressed from her pearls to her shoes.
“They’re all the
same, derelicts, only he calls it busking.’
“Whatever you give
him, he’ll just spend it on Booze.”
I thought “geez,
that’s rough,” and I turned back to John,
But he knuckled his
forehead(!) and gave me a wink
That said, plain and
clear, “We can have some fun here.”
So I said, “Is it
true, would you spend that on drink?”
John paused for a
little, then said, “some possibility”
“There’s some
possibility she may be right.”
“Would I spend
that WHOLE dollar you gave me on liquor?
“I’m rather
afraid, my young sir, that I might.”
I thought “’Young
Sir,’ You bugger, John, I’ll get you for that,”
But it was serve and
return, so I said, “Well, OK.”
And I flipped him a
twenty, a brick, red and folded.
“Can you make that
one last you the rest of the day?”
The Old Trout near
laid an egg, but John sadly returned it.
“That brick’s
far too rich for my battered old hat.”
“But I’ve an
idea, we could each have a beer.”
A schooner apiece.
What do you say to that?”
“And, with the
small change, buy The Old Trout a sherry,”
A port, double
whiskey, a brandy, or such.”
“Young Sir, that
would be pure Christian Charity.”
“Between us, I
doubt she gets asked out too much.”
The Old Trout, she
wowsered and yodelled, “How dare you?”
“As if I would
touch liquor!” but her face turned bright red!
Then she turned on
her heel with the speed of an eel,
And she just
buggered off. Whoops, I’m sorry, she fled.
Pause
It’s a cold day in
hell, and I’m drinking cold beer
With the Pope, and
rum chasers with the rest of his train.
Such a cold day in
hell will it be, me old dear,
Before ever you
patronise John Dengate again!
The St George and Sutherland Leader, Thursday 13th January 2000, pages 1 & 3.
Newspaper clipping supplied by Chris Woodland, (BMC Archives)
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