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This pub looks familiar – I think I’ll have a Trotters Ale
Hung From The Heart by Hung One On
Hey, a heart is a powerful thing
It keeps us alive beating non stop
From birth to death
If I speak from the heart
I may offend or discriminate
But that ain’t what I will want to do
To speak the truth takes courage
However the truth is different to different eyes
Me, I don’t care where you came from
The colour of your skin
To me it’s you, that’s what makes me like you
You may be smart, you may be dumb
If you are genuine then that’s okay
Racism and bigots I don’t like
But if you have a view
Put it up for discussion, lets hear it
Nothing wrong with that but don’t expect me to agree
Again, nothing wrong with that
Me, I get my most pleasure from others
My wife and kids, my patients
I love seeing them be happy
Last night a lady resident with dysphagia
Was crying and upset
I held her hand and asked her all the usual dumb questions
“Are you in pain?”
“Do you want fries with that?”
She tried to tell me what was wrong.
She squeezed my hand hard. She was down.
In the end she said “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright”
As clear as day, dysphagia?
I see a lot of depression
It takes one to know one
Doing something for them is so hard for some
But easy for me
I go to work, sometimes tired, not enough sleep,
“Hey Hung, can I have some Panadol?”
Sure, how easy is that
Most of friends are gone now
Thanks to the Black Dog
The crew at The Arms are my friends now
I talk from the heart
I wear it on my sleeve
I pay a price, I pay my dues
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Voice?
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I think things are actually looking like they are on the up and up for Hung. Hang in there Hung.
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Thanks Viv, I genuinely feel better
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You can get it nursin’
Youz can can it cursin’
Our Sister Hung’s got it now
No, it’s not a fuckin’ cow
A hard earned thirst needs a big cold beer
He may be dear, but he’s not fuckin’ queer
He sometimes writes prose, but youz all knows
Gluten’ll root ‘im, leave his arse shootin’
So there’ll be no beer, for our Dear,
Hung, the thirstiest of us all.
(Yes, this doggerel did appall!)
Happy Christmas to youz all.
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I always thought that having a heart leads you into nursing, now it looks like it is a profession for ‘poets’ as well…
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So what do you do in your spare time Big M.
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That is classic Big M, I have been laughing all morning at this one.
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Our Hung !
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I only walk tall if Helvi approves, the cops have been about next doors dog, I said don’t worry I will give is some Warfarin, the cops didn’t understand I said ‘Fuck off copper he said I’ll be back, I said bring some drugs
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Stunning literature, Hungsie!
Proudaya very much!
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ato, you writes very funny…I is laughing now.. 🙂
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I writes engalish proppa. Like C.J. Dennis.
‘Er name’s Doreen …Well, spare me bloomin’ days!
You could er knocked me down wiv ‘arf a brick!
Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
An’ ‘as a name for smoogin’ in our click!
I just lines up ‘an tips the saucy wink.
But strike! The way she piled on dawg! Yer’d think
A bloke was givin’ back-chat to the Queen….
‘Er name’s Doreen.
But Hungsie writes betta. Much betterer. Emotional, emotive, evocative, passionate, dinkum stuff.
He are a proppa poet, our Hungsie are!
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Is he from Mt Gambier?
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atomou, I am an emotional guy as you know, I wish I had some wisdom with it, it gets me into trouble, I thought I had grown up but I am still learning, Is this what it is like George? Will I ever learn? Will my spanokopitas ever be as good as Mrs A’s? So many questions so little time.
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Hungsie, we’re all still learning. Well, those of us who make use of their eyes and ears and the other three senses. The others, who just wanna go to sleep in front of re-runs of “Father Knows Best” will not learn, have never learnt. They will certainly never learn how to cook spanakopita.
You, on the other hand, I suggest, will go on learning, most probably much more eagerly than most of us, BECAUSE you are emotional, which is, to my thinking, another word for being “sensitive,” which, to my thinking, is another word for being “sympathetic” and “empathetic.” You wouldn’t be doing the job you’re doing, with the dedication that you’re doing it with, if you weren’t all these things.
Mrs Ato doesn’t do the spanakopitas. In this house, the responsibilities have been appropriated a long time ago: Kitchen is my kingdom. All else, all other rooms and all other chores like washing, ironing, floors, etc, are within the purview of Mrs Ato.
We are exultantly happy with this arrangement.
My mother, however, now SHE is untouchable, so far as spanakopita goes. She is at it at this minute, getting it ready for tomorrow’s Chrissy dinner. That’s because she does everything. From the pastry, to the spinach+silver beat! She’s fantastic. I’ve watched her so closely, videoed her even but still can’t match her culinary prowess!
But, if you listen to her, you’ll know that even at the age of 86, she is still learning!
So, in answer to your question, Hungsie, I say, rest easy because I can’t see how you could stop yourself, or hold yourself back from learning: about spanakopita, shepherd’s pie and even more so, about the glory and frailty of human nature.
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No I can’t stop myself. Wise words GT
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“It takes one to know one”
nex time thata mangy rabid cur come a barkin’ Hung……you put your size 10’s
straight downa its throat!
Throttle that mongrel fuker!
And that’s from the heart 🙂
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JG, you do have an excellent way with words 🙂
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I assumed that the neighbor’s cat had a headache, so gave it two panadol!
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Good idea Mark, all cats have headaches 🙂
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Nice work, Hung, should be published over at the Bum, where you might get some Oxford Scholars for your effort!!
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I could just see custard, Hermit and chipinga and the other liberal party members trying to figure over where their hearts are only to realise they don’t have them. I would like to see the looks on their faces when they get admitted to hospital only to realise that the people charged with looking after them all vote Labor, “Now Mr Hermit, where was that pain again and by the way it’s enema day…..”
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Gee I wish I could write like that Hung. Touching.
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I found it easier than Father O’Way as it does simply flow from the heart. The other morning in the middle of my round one of my residents started to talk to me in depth about how he could see he was deteriorating, now I am under immense time pressure to do my round and have to dilute every thing I do to achieve the schedule. I when back after I clocked off and sat and talked to him for 30 minutes about his insight, everyone thought I was mad, I was just being me and I couldn’t care that I got to bed half hour later than normal, what’s half an hour after all?
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Hung, I reckon some of the most valuable conversations I’ve ever had are with elderly folk towards the end. Good on ya son!
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Cheers mate, I wanted to talk but at 5 in the morning I don’t have time, he really liked it and so did I
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I spoke from the heart here
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“I pay a price, I pay my dues”
That reads like lyrics of a popular pop song…one finds some good insights in most unexpected places.
Nice one Hung.
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Thank yo your Aitchedness
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Talk from the heart is the hardest talk of all, but you my friend and your few words, hope you’ll continue walking tall.
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Thanks Gez, I hope I got the word order right, I was pretty tired, anyway I always have you to look up to with writing.
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