The rocky garden border,
In my memory still impedes,
You move a big stone slowly,
And catch the giant centipedes.

There were ants’ worms and slaters,
Under every giant rock,
And every time I moved them,
Old Joe would do his block.

I seemed to forget as a little kid,
If you move it, put it back,
I probably doubled Old Joe’s workload,
Crikey! I was slack.

I always blamed the girls you know,
If Old Joe could smell a rat,
I’d look him straight in the eye,
And say, “I never did that”.

In fact He never got on to me,
For the many rotten things I did,
When Old Joe came hunting,
I buggered off and hid.

A modern day Ned Kelly,
I was terrific on the run,
Old Joe never suspected me,
For the many things I’d done.

In fact I was a mongrel kid,
A thorough little toad,
But take me back anytime,
To Old Joe and Lyons road.