A Bush Poem


Sue & The Beaver

By Tim Borthwick


A sweet little author or so we all thought

Till she told us the tale of the battle she fought

Of her time in the ring with a bad tempered diva

A big busty bruiser they nicknamed The Beaver


 The Beaver was one of a travelling troupe

The roughest and toughest but part of a group

Who toured with Fred Brophy and that says it all

She’d forgo a feed just to have a good brawl


Possessing of all that a punter would love

The leanest and meanest to lace on a glove

Three one minute rounds to determine who’s best

The Beaver had simply demolished the rest


I still recall dinner with Sue at our side

As she told us the yarn and we laughed till we cried

For she’d travelled the world, written books by the score

And yet deep in her heart she was yearning for more


And all in the name of researching a story

Of fighters who fight for the fun and the glory

A time honoured form of defence and attack

Of receiving a hiding and handing one back


But how can a girl with such limited training

Prepare for a fight that is physically draining

She decked herself out with some gloves and a shirt

And then gave herself punches to see if it hurt


And even her husband was not a believer

On hearing the news of her fight with The Beaver

But give her due praise she signed up at the gym

Commandeering a boxer and sparring with him


She learnt all the terms that a good fighter knows

Of the time to advance or to dance on her toes

The old ‘rope a dope’, to retreat or to smother

To lead with the left or to feign with the other


And when the fight came she stepped up to the fray

While desperately keeping The Beaver at bay

With two little fists going hammer and tongs

As if ridding the world of its worries and wrongs


She didn’t hold back and it must have been grand

To see her deliver that deadly right hand

The same that had penned all those millions of words

Now flew in a flurry like hundreds of birds


She went toe to toe with The Beaver and won

A legion of fans for the deed she had done

She’d proved in a fight that you don’t have to win

Just give it your best and to never give in


For when the bell rang at the end of the bout

The really true winner there wasn’t a doubt

The honours were won by the girl in the fight

With an eye for a yarn and a passion to write


The Beaver may well have had style and finesse

From how many fights it is anyone’s guess

She fought for the thrill of the game and the glory

While Sue did it all for the sake of a story


There’s genuine grit that is hard to define

That pushes us onward and over the line

And whether we all have that same dedication

To face a good challenge I’ve some hesitation


I’ve seen many things that may seem pretty strange

And there’s others I’ve done that I wish I could change

But the one thing I’d love is be granted a lever

To turn back the time to Sue’s fight with The Beaver.