THE MUPPET SHOW 
by Rodd Sherwin

 I have lived and played a lifetime
And watched the years go round
Then looked for a new pastime 
As my body started to slow down
First of all I’d thought about
Installing garden trains
But then maybe I’d have a crack
At building model planes.
 
So I popped on down to Bunnings
Bought a bunch of balsa wood
And stuck it all together
'Cause I simply thought I could
But it did look rather pretty
In the livery of an old DC3,
Just like the one’s we flew around
Years ago, in PNG.
 
It impressed all who beheld it
And they asked, ‘But can it fly’
‘It’s supposed to, but I’ve really no idea’
And they all wondered why?
So with a little help from ‘Google’
Some aero modellers were revealed
Not far from our neighbourhood
At the place called Gibson Field.

I

It was really quite exciting
When I ventured to drive in
Little airplanes buzzing all around
While making quite a din.
And sitting round a table
With their coffee, tea and cake
A group of grey and grizzled men
Engaged in deep debate.

So I showed them all my pictures
And they asked if I could fly
And I answered ‘No, that’s why I’m here,
Cause I’d really like to try’
‘Well you’d better get a trainer’
One said in words most sage
‘Son, before you fly that thing
You best be twice your age.’
 
So began the Friday ritual
Out at the crack of dawn
Thinking now, at any time
A ‘Flying Ace’ would be born.
But through the reverie I heard
In words, Oh most profound
‘You should have flared that ’bloody’ thing
Before it hit the ground!’
 
Perhaps I was a little slow
For my prospects looked quite bleak,
But at least I was determined
And endowed with a stubborn streak.
I found some good excuses
Which the trainers thought absurd
While thinking quietly to themselves
'The worst I’ve ever heard.'

The team that was around me
Showed perseverance and restraint,
Wondering if they forever could
Maintain the patience of a Saint.
But human resolve can weaken
And eventually they caved in,
‘I think perhaps its time you go
And give that thing a spin.’
 
Meanwhile on the outside
In the wider world of men
I’ve been asked ‘What was I up to?’
And I’ve sought to fill them in.
‘Of this group that I’m involved with
I’m not sure I truly know
They’re really an eclectic bunch
Quite like a Muppet Show’.
 
Overall a friendly mob
Who share in ribald jokes,
All in all it must be said
Just a bunch of real good blokes.
To assign each one a character
Would quite likely start a blue,
So the task of matching up the roles
I’d rather leave to you.

From every walk of life they’ve come
Having worked in all the trades,
Some retired with a golden pens
And some with silver spades.
There were those who wore collars white
Engaged in their big banks,
And in protection of our land
Others clattered round in tanks.

And out of all the rank and file
In fatigues that can’t be missed,
Was it the Court Jester? -
Someone not to be dismissed.
Who could it be, I wonder?
To so boldly make a stance
Of course it was non other
Than our Captain Underpants.
 
Among the hierarchy 
You’ll find the Baron Papps
And mounted on his old rusty steed
The noble Duke of ‘Tatts’.
I haven’t titled Russell 
Or the others relied upon,
But don’t forget Count Percy
With his ‘Papakha’ now glued on.
 
Then at the very pinnacle of power
On his private carpet patch,
King Billy here reigns supreme
In a manner none can match.
But with all his Heraldic blazons
Under crossed swords and shields
Our modest Monarch can still be seen
In Straw and Berry Fields.
 
So dawns another chapter
In the course of life’s great game
For there’s nothing like second childhood
To make you young again.
And I’d better not disparage
This company that I chose,
‘Cause now for better or for worse
I’m just another one of those.