The Rum Barrel Club by David J Delaney recalls a cheeky true story his father shared about a secret drinking club born among railway workers.
Set in Liverpool’s goods shunting yards, the poem blends family memory, larrikin humour and the inevitable trouble that follows when a good secret becomes too popular.
The Rum Barrel Club
By David J Delaney
It’s now been quite some years since father passed away
and sometimes I still think about that mournful day
though, often when I reminisce about my Dad
I’ll think of mostly good times, not about the sad.
So what I’d like to do is now inject some cheer
about the night we sat together drinking beer
and Dad relayed a story of an incident
when he was young and slightly overconfident.
Was when he worked at Liverpool’s goods shunting yards
where during lunch the men would talk and play some cards
when one of Dad’s mates said he had this fool-proof plan
though not a word must reach the boss’s muscle-man.
Now Dad and Bob were always up for a free drink
and being larrikins they didn’t stop to think.
They’d need some plastic hose and also brace and bit
some small size wooden bungs to make a perfect fit.
Each Tuesday’s when the men worked on a special job,
and this always involved my Dad and his mate Bob.
Three wagons each with twenty four rum barrels full,
then right across each one, a tarp they all would pull.
There was one thing that Dad and Bob and their mates knew,
what part they had to play, before they’d taste that brew.
The barrel top and front would now become the test
and hopefully, become much lighter than the rest.
While loading the first wagon’s top and second tier,
that’s when they made their move, because the coast was clear,
and soon retrieved the tools stashed in their hiding place
then, to the barrel with a grin upon each face.
Bob drilled a bung size hole down half way from the top
then plugged it with his finger, losing a small drop,
Dad passed the hose which now was bunged at just one end,
Bob squeezed it in the hole and said, “It’s done, my friend”.
The tarp was rolled and tied, the hose snaked out of sight,
though now they had to test and make sure all was right,
Dad grabbed the hose, removed the bung and had a sip
then passed the hose to Bob who had a good old nip.
So these two wags and those who knew enjoyed the drink,
and through the day took turns, as if they were in sync.
Dad told me, just before the wagons were to roll,
that someone had to take the hose out of the hole.
Then jam the wooden bung as tight as it could go,
while doing this job quick, as not to cause a show.
He’d hide the plastic hose along with all the rest,
though keeping this a secret would be a great test.
Dad mentioned he stayed working there for one more round,
for increased pay he’d start a new job that he found
and said it was down at the ammo factory,
not far from home and a much better place to be.
He then informed me he met Bob down at the pub
and asked about the men and their ‘Rum Barrel Club’
He said, “He had to quickly knock it on the head,
in just four weeks the bloody word began to spread”.
“The foreman soon became suspicious of some blokes,
for by day’s end, they left there yelling dirty jokes.”
And also Bob said, “How you should have heard them wail
though, was much better than them ending up in jail”.
Now Dad said that the foreman never ever solved
the missing rum or just how many were involved,
and Dad was proud to say (when sitting at the pub)
He was a member of that Old Rum Barrel Club.
True story from my father, miss you Dad. ❤️
Keeping The Verse Alive
The Rum Barrel Club is shared with permission from David J Delaney through Keeping The Verse Alive, Country Campfire’s bush poetry preservation project.
By preserving poems like this, we’re helping ensure the stories, humour and characters of country Australia continue to be enjoyed for generations to come.
David J Delaney
Bush Poet • Writer • Storyteller
David J Delaney is an Australian bush poet and writer whose poems draw on a lifetime of work, travel, family, road memories, outback places and the people he has known along the way. His poems are preserved through Country Campfire as part of the Keeping The Verse Alive project.
Poems, recitals, photographs, stories and original works remain the property of their original creator and are shared by Country Campfire with permission.
