How they do it in Vic
Once upon a time, in Central Vic,
an old boyfriend of mine wanted to show me a trick.
Hold on a minute – don’t go there,
although, it was late at night, so I guess that’s fair.
We were in the red cruiser with his ol’ man,
his mum, sisters, and mate, too; all with a plan –
to show me the way down here, the way they hunt
but I didn’t expect the best mate to get the brunt.
I was seated in the middle of the back.
We were quietly creeping along the old dirt track.
Boyfriend and his mate were sitting either side.
None of us had known, we were in for a ride.
They each had their rifles aimed out the window,
All were squinting eyes in the moonlight glow.
We all wondered what we’d find,
As the car went on and the hill declined.
The spotty was in motion, looking for a fox,
as we coasted along, until the gearbox
somehow shifted into top gear
and the car sped up and it wouldn’t steer.
His mum grabbed the wheel, as we all held on,
my man swung back in, and the gun fired upon
the top of his poor mates head –
but don’t you worry, he wasn’t dead.
Who’d’ve known luck would strike for his poor mate that night?
All he got, was a big helluva fright
as the bullet flew through, and put a hole in his cap,
hit the roof, and landed in his lap.
Just after that, the car slowed down,
and a unanimous vote resulted in heading back to town.
His family insisted to me, it was just a oner,
‘cos if that’s how they do it in Vic, it sure was a stunner.