This page is a record of a poem relating to Fremantle.
- Title: Characters of the Buffalo Club
- Authors: Gaylene Rosier
- Published:
- Reference URL: https://freopedia.org/Characters_of_the_Buffalo_Club
- Authority control:
CHARACTERS OF THE BUFFALO CLUB
By Gaylene Rosier
It’s some years now since I worked at the Buffs, but memories do not fade
Of the times I had, most good, some bad and all the friends I made.
I recall the day of that strange interview, in the April of 89
Few questions were asked and I looked aghast as I left thinking the jobs not mine.
But later that week, I received the call. Could you start on this Friday night
So I walked in at 5, to start my first shift. Not aware I’d be viewing this sight.
They were 6 at the bar, a crowd to behold. All shapes and sizes I saw.
I jumped in to help and learn the ropes. While they’re still flowing thick through the door.
In those early days when I began, there was Myret, Annie, Vicky and me.
3 casual staff and 1 full time we could work that bar to a “T”.
We’d work those shifts from 10 to 10 and sometimes until 12.
We’d laugh and joke and pour those beers, into others lives we’d delve.
I’ve never known a better team, we’d work that bar like pros.
With boss Leo in constant sight, to keep us on our toes.
With beers to pour and bars to clean the hours flew by so fast.
With last drinks called and patrons gone a rest was ours at last.
And back in the day, when I was still young, uniforms they did supply,
But not to our liking, we cut off the sleeves and short shorts we did buy.
The MUA would meet each month at the Buffs on 54.
In numbers vast they’d climb those stairs, with a slamming of the door.
At meeting end, when they came on down, with thirsts so fit to kill
We’d watch them drink the hours away to the ringing of the till.
The seaman were a regular crew. Carefree, chatty and mostly behaved.
When rosters changed they’d head to town, with tales of seas they’d braved.
Leo my boss played quite the part, with the punters he’d chat and joke.
A drinker, a gamble, a ladies man, but still a pretty good bloke.
Pete the musician was a regular sight. Thursday night was his gig at the Buffs.
They’d down those beers and dance along to all of old Pete’s stuff.
If you drank enough at the Buffalo club a nickname you’d acquire.
The list goes on with no end in site, it never seemed to tire.
Like every pub in an Aussie town, those nicknames did prevail.
Hooky and Chooky, Sparky and Sharky. They were there on a massive scale.
There was Kev the painter, Ray the butcher and Ted the bingo man,
Who’d push those coins through that machine. A 500 was his plan.
With Whisper and Mumbles, Skippy and Oink, Beehive, Blacky and Blue.
Black Jack, Shirley, Smithy and Nifty, Shadow and Midnight too.
Hughie and Louie, sorry no Dewie, but they all had their ducks in a row.
With a thirst well earnt and money to spend to the Buffalo Club they’d go
There was John and Stan, the brothers two, often prone to disagree.
“They’d sit at the bar and put tips in my jar”. Billy Joel would be so proud of me.
Peter, Ian, Rick and John, they worked for the FPA.
On Friday arvo they’d walk on through. To the bar they’d make their way.
They’d order a round and throw ‘em down, then look at me and say,
“It’s thirsty work in that hot sun girl, another round please Gay”.
There’s Bob and Rob and Paul’s galore. At least 8 that I recall.
With various trades and working skills they were there to have a ball.
There’s Mary and Kath, Jock and Tom. Related by marriage you see
2 sisters, a brother, a brother in-law. It’s not confusing for me.
Dingo and Ringo. I kid you not. Plus Spike, Butch, Tuck and Duck.
I know these names are hard to believe and the rhyming could take potluck.
Dallas and Lyn, Sue and Evonne, Cheryl, Jan and Fran.
When tempers frayed and glasses broke, some ladies we had to ban.
Mick, Vic, Paul and Ray, were part of the snooker team.
They’d play this game around the clubs, great players to be seen.
On a Tuesday night when the comp was on, to the tables they would Stride.
With a few beers had, a confident smile, they had a glow of pride
They’d chalk those cues and pot those balls with an awesome show of flare
They’d take the points and win the game as their opponents they would glare.
When the night was done and shouts were bought and the game discussed at length
They’d rack their cues and take their leave and the staff could take a breath.
My son was but a boy back then, when I had this fine career
A single mum with an only son, I tried to keep him near
When the school bell rang, no sitter found, he’d take a taxi ride.
From Winterfold school to the Buffs on High and through that door he’d stride.
He’d sit right down, way up the back, with homework wrote or read
With a bag of chips and can of coke, nutrition foremost in my head
I’d often wonder what a boy of 7 would think of these tough men
As they stopped to chat and joke with him, it seemed okay back then.
They’d watch his back and keep an eye, wherever he’d go to
Those big rough blokes where angels then, until my shift was through.
And though they cursed and drank a lot, these men of Freo town.
They did their bit on those few days when a sitter was not found.
For 20 years plus, I worked that bar, fond memories still remain
Of the cheers, the beers and the good times had, of these I can’t complain
Many of them are gone you know, to that long bar in the sky
Where beers run free and no tills ring, it’s enough to make you cry.
As they wile away their days up there and talk of what could be
Do they ever take a glance back down and spare a thought for me.
So take me back to the good old days of laughter and good cheer
And bring my mates back from above so we can share a beer.