Butter in the Bush

Christmas comes but once a week

When the chopper brings the grub.

The cooks ordered five sticks of butter.

The gaffer heard five tubs.

.

LT was in the camp that night.

And the Scotch did make the rounds.

As always, he had a bright idea.

“Boys! Peg that tarp tight down!

.

We’ll heat up all this butter!

And spread it down real thick.

We’ll leave enough for the cooks to cook.

Four tubs should do the trick!”

.

So we spread it all across the tarp

And slid around like eels.

At first it was fantastic fun.

But fat, you see, congeals.

.

As the night got cooler

And our brains woke up

We thought, if there’s a bear around

He’s sure to eat us up.

.

So we stripped off all our clothes

And tossed them on the tarp.

We partied in the shower tent,

Buck-naked in the dark.

.

The water washed us mostly clean

Of dirt and fat and sins.

But boys and girls were intertwined

wearing nothing but their skins.

.

Some tents were full; some tents were not,

The night the butter flowed.

And when I poked my head outside

I saw that it had snowed.

.

All the mess from the night before

Was covered now in white.

We threw it all in a cargo net

And tied it up right tight.

.

The chopper made an extra trip

Of tarps and jeans and butter.

And on the other side, the gaffer cried

And insulted LT’s mother.

.

It wasn’t wise. It wasn’t smart.

And, yes, I lost some clothes.

But Christmas comes but once a week

And it doesn’t always snow.

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This poem originally appeared on Medium.com