Once a month, never more and more often less.

He took a shower in his Stanfield’s undress.

It was woolly, long sleeved, had a flap at the back.

Red as a rose, course as a sack.

He showered in song, as well as in water.

His voice was off key, the words too, sort‘a.

He soaped his long johns that he’d stood in, full long,

before pulling them off from where they belonged.

He rinsed them and wrung them; pink down the drain.

Hung them to drip to a drying refrain.

Then washing himself in warm water and suds;

he waited for nature to care for his duds.

Its easy he said. “My method is best;

to be clean in body as well as in vest.”

 

 

David Garlick, (Little Dave), Victoria, May  1996

 

From a logging story by David Mulroney.  (Big Dave.)