Now if you've got a minute a two, |
I'll tell you the story of our back loo, |
It's like none that you've seen before, |
A warning's written on the door, |
"Please take a seat in flood or
drought, |
But not when there are storms about," |
Another thing thats rather odd, |
Our dunny's got a lightning rod. |
|
It all began one fateful day, |
When Grandpa had come down to stay, |
The day had been quite clear and warm, |
But night-time brought an awful storm, |
He finished his prune and baked bean stew, |
And longed to have a number two, |
His face contorted with the strain, |
As he raced to the bog through pouring
rain. |
|
His backyard sprint was fairly brief, |
And ended with sighs of relief, |
As Grandpa hit the holey chair, |
With only seconds left to spare, |
Outside the wind was getting stronger, |
It seemed his stay would be much longer, |
But then there was a lightning flash, |
And Grandpa heard an awful crash. |
|
The lightning hit the dunny shed, |
The voltage should have knocked him dead, |
A good thing was, his pants were down, |
Or else they would have turned dark brown, |
It got so hot, and I'm no liar, |
That Grandpa's trousers caught on fire, |
And as the flames licked round his knees, |
He smashed the door and struggled free. |
|
He stumbled out into the yard, |
The wind blew strong, the rain beat hard, |
He turned just as his leg went lame, |
To see the bog explode in flame, |
His hair was singed, he skin was burnt, |
Especially were his trousers weren't |
He lay there shivering with fear, |
And waited for the storm to clear. |
|
Well many people think it funny, |
To hear of our exploding dunny, |
But pop still bares the mental scars, |
And quite a few across his arse, |
Though sometimes if you shout him beers, |
He manages to quell his fears, |
And if he tells you of that day, |
Then this is probably what he'll say. |
|
"I've grown to like the wooden seat, |
And lizards crawling across your feet, |
It's not that bad when big bull ants, |
Bite those parts beneath your pants, |
And I've gotten used to Red Back spiders |
That crawl along the seat beside ya, |
But I've not known anything so frightening, |
As when our dunny got hit by lightening. |