We loved to drive out through the hills
where landscapes are so green
and always sought the smell of hay
which seemed so fresh and clean.
We’d rent a cosy cottage there
around that time each year,
the days and nights were magical
and life was full of cheer.
That night we planned a simple tea
a good old country stew,
with fresh grown mushrooms we had picked
as ’round the place they grew.
Those mushrooms seemed much bigger then
the ones we’d norm’lly find
but in they went with all the rest,
we really did not mind.
Our stew was just the best we’d had
on that we did agree,
then sitting back and quite content
enjoyed a cup of tea.
When suddenly, in front of us
our kitchen came to life,
with antics never seen before,
sure terrified my wife.
She sat and watched with fear filled eyes
for both her knife and fork,
were standing up and quite erect
and both of them could walk.
The kitchen curtains did a jig
and plates flew ’round the room,
Our mop then left its corner spot
to line dance with the broom.
Old teapot sang and clapped its hands,
the tea cups joined in too.
My mind it boggled at the sight
and wondered what to do.
I grabbed the phone and dialled for help
which soon was on its way,
though not before the pots and pans
had all began to play.
Poor doctor tried to calm us down
enquiring of our plight.
We mentioned what had taken place,
the horrors of that night.
He summed up what had taken place,
the answer he now knew.
We’d eaten mushrooms which produced,
a psychedelic stew.
While waiting at the outpatients in a Northern Queensland hospital The Matron advised me that I would need to wait a while as an elderly couple had mistakenly picked goldtop mushrooms to put in their stew and were experiencing the weirdest of hullucinations and needed to be watched. I sympathised and was inspired to write the above.
From the Book A Muster of Verse and Yarns.