An Ode to Quinty


Beecroft, NSW
TUNE: When The Bloom Is On The Sage
SITE SOURCE: Folklore Unit – People




When it’s stand-down time in ‘Quinty,
And the boys are on the loose,
How I long to be in ‘Quinty,
Where the girls can pick and choose,
Just to see those trainees flying,
Was a thrill I never knew,
‘Till I hit the land where the RAAF’s are grand,
And the boys all know it’s true.

With our prairie bashing picnics,
And our yabby parties too,
When we landed on Bar 20
We had nothing else but stew;
We’ve survived our rotten messing,
And our figures have come through,
And our jeans with alterations,
Have lived through the ordeal too.

Now I think of old Bar 20,
In the summer and the spring,
When the grass seeds in our blankets,
Didn’t seem to mean a thing,
And those midnight bathing parties,
That were unofficial too,
And the night the C.O. caught us,
We sure landed in the stew!

Should we ever leave old ‘Quinty
Where the privileges are few,
We will always think of ‘Quinty,
As the home of Irish stew,
Where the athletes train on goldfish
And our hockey players too,
Where our meteorologist maniac,
Never know what next to do.

So we hope you like this story,
We have composed for you,
About our old Bar 20,
And its super duper crew,
We will leave you reminiscing,
Of it’s Mick and Vie and half-cold tea,
And the RAAFS and WAAFIES too!

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