Colin F. Jones


Col and Tony: June 18, 2002
Col and Tony: June 18, 2002
It’s cold down south in winter,
The frost whites up the ground,
The wind blows like a sprinter,
The clouds up high do pound.

So why decide to travel,
Into the Southern State?
Well simply to unravel,
And visit Tone, me mate.

Tone like me is TPI,
Which means we went to war,
He was sailing round the sky,
I was jumping out the door.

He was a hellilofter hummer,
And a pretty good one two,
Though he became a gutsa bummer,
Once or twice or two.

Them helilofters sometimes land,
With their rotors underneath,
The fullsarg spinning round and round,
Like a dog’s tail outrunning teeth.

But getting out ain’t no prob,
You just cut yourself free;
It’s just a gentle little lob,
Into the nearest tree.

Hopeless shots they were you know,
‘should see their tracer bend,
It’s like a baseball player’s throw:
It was a growing trend.

Boomerangs we called ‘em,
And sometimes other things,
But Tone he didn’t know it then,
There’d be some other happenings.

Well I met old Butch his doggie,
And pinched his favourite chair,
But he was as fearsome as a noggie,
So in the end I had to share.

A great old time we had down there,
Me myself and wife,
Getting in their bloody hair,
And into lots of strife,

But really it was lots of fun,
We cried until we laughed,
So when our trip was good and done,
We boarded that great craft

Across the bay heading north,
Where the sun shines every day,
Fifty bucks it was worth,
(we should have gone the other way)

So thank you mate for your time,
Your friendship and you care,
To meet your daughter and your wife,
Was a pleasure I declare.

God bless you mate, my good friend,
God bless you through and through,
And even though your tracers bend,
You’re, well mate, one in few.

Author’s Note: To remember Karen and my visit to the Pahl’s in Victoria