My old dad had many stories he loved to tell. <br />As a child these stories held me in their spell. <br />Mostly they contained a corrugated shearing shed, <br />Or a boxing contest with shots to the head. <br /> <br />My favorite story I share with you <br />Now I cannot say it will all be true. <br />But where facts fail I will not cry. <br />I'll simply exaggerate or straight out lie. <br /> <br />One very dark and stormy night when lighting flashed, <br />My dad the shearers cook heard angry voices next door so in he dashed. <br />In the room were husband and wife. <br />They were going toe to toe till she was in strife. <br /> <br />Valiantly Dad told them the error of their way <br />Something he was going to regret that day. <br />He pulled the man away from the woman with a mighty yank. <br />And laid a hook on him that sent him temporarily blank. <br /> <br />He then turned around expecting a smile of thanks from across the room, <br />When something large flew passed his eyes with a zoom. <br />This blackened figure hit the rusting tin wall with a crash. <br />And the hiss of hot water around Dad did splash. <br /> <br />There at his feet a cast iron kettle lay, <br />His head sprung up with a look of dismay. <br />She had snatched the kettle from it's resting place on the stove, <br />And toward my dad's head she drove. <br /> <br />Then she looked at my old Dad with a smile of satisfaction <br />Content she had dealt with the intruder with this action. <br />Dad just stood there in cooks apron and shorts with a face of red. <br />She continued her smile and showed but three blacken teeth in her head. <br /> <br />Today ol Dad has passed away. <br />But I'll tell you one thing he always used to say. <br />When it comes to siding with husband or wife. <br />Side with neither, and stay out of others families strife.<br /><br />R. K. Hart<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cast-iron-kettle/
