The Woeful Tale of Porky Joe
Up in North Australia,
Where the crocodilligators grow
There lived a wild pig-shooter
By the name of Porky Joe.
Now Porky had a sheila
Who thought it was her right
To punish her errant husband
If he came in too late at night…
One evening on the grog, in town,
As men are wont to do
He bumped into a sheila
On his way out to the loo…
With thighs like traps of steel
And the biggest eyes of blue…
The cocky’s youngest daughter,
Whose name was Cindy-Lou.
Now Cindy was a young girl
And she thought it was no harm
As Porky grabbed a bottle of Bundy
And walked her out towards the barn.
And in Cindy-Lou’s young arms
Porky Joe quite forgot himself
He forgot his wife, Matilda,
His children… and his health!
Until at dawn the cock crowed
And he was jerked awake
With terrifying thoughts
Of the revenge his wife would take…
While Matilda had spent the night
Wracking her furious brain
For a means to punish Porky Joe,
So he would not do it again.
Quickly springing up and leaving
Cindy-Lou there in the hay
Porky Joe ran home directly,
Trying to think what he would say
Had anybody seen them…?
Or had they maybe overheard…?
And if anybody had seen,
Would they spread the word?
He decided that they would,
And he knew then he was doomed
To a life serving Matilda
While she lay idle in her room;
Attending her smallest whim,
Porky knew would be his fate
While he strove in vain for forgiveness
And she gave him only hate.
But as he opened his front door,
Much to his surprise,
Matilda brought his pipe and bowl…
He could not believe his eyes.
Showing nothing but concern
For the welfare of her man
She acted pleased to see him;
Revealing nothing of her plan…
Porky Joe was taken in by Matilda’s
Surprisingly pleasant manner
And finally he managed
To utter with a stammer,
“P-p-passed out in the barn behind the
Drover’s Arms after I’d cried ‘Ruth’”
She seemed happy to believe him;
As if he always told the truth…
But Matilda was not deceived
By Porky Joe’s transparent lie;
She’d smelled another woman’s scent
Upon him as she removed his tie
And wisely she said nothing
But dutifully she fed
Her hungry errant husband
And then sent him off to bed.
Then, as he slept quite soundly,
Free from any fears,
Matilda crept into her husband’s room
With an old-fashioned pair of shears…
She severed him from his manhood,
As suddenly from his dream
Porky Joe woke in a bloody puddle,
With an agonizing scream.
“Matilda, what have you done to me?”
He said, but it was clear
From his new soprano voice
And the blood upon the shears;
His wife had just castrated him;
And she’d thoroughly taken all…
He’d liked a game of snooker,
But now he’d neither stick nor ball.
But Joe realized where the fault lay;
And he knew it was all his own
He should never have taught Matilda
To use the shears and sharpening stone.
But the moral became clear to him
As Joe bled to death alone,
If you shit on your own doorstep,
It’s safer never to come home.
So come all you wild pig-shooters
And listen to my story
If you behave like Porky Joe
Your end will be quite gory.
And like Porky Joe, a-lying there
In all his blood and gore,
You’ll never go a-waltzing
Your Matilda any more…
By DL Rowlands