By Alan Facer.

And so again it came to pass,
That Boss Pella Bill did organise,
Another safari (but this time downsize).
No more again to sad Rabaul,
Or Pacific Isles with coups and all,
Just an easy jaunt with a cruise as well,
No marathon flights with weather from hell.

At Hagen we bussed to Mud-Men and warrior tribe,
With a BRIEF narration from Nelson our guide.
Then Madang and the markets for more stuff to carry,
And not for the last time we thought we'd lost Barry.
Next day we travelled to Simon's village,
Where we learnt of customs and healing fruit,
And the enchanting tune of the sacred flute,
That Phil so liked, he asked for an encore,
But Betel nut, lime and mustard made fluting a chore.
But how carefully they handled them, now we know why,
For to damage the flute truly meant "YOU MUST DIE".
Our stay at Malolo was relaxing and then some,
And the courteous staff made us feel "MOST WELCOME".

Then on to the Sepik Spirit we boarded,
And visited a village, then another and another
And when we thought we had seen it all,
We visited a village, then another and another.
Quite a lot of villages you may have guessed,
But each one different and not to be missed.
And then for something completely different,
Back to Karawari Lodge, where we visited more villages.

The day we left for Tari, the weather looked bleak,
With thunder and rain and cloud below peaks,
But no, "FINE AND BEAUT", our Mother Goose said,
"TARI IS FINE WITH CLEAR WEATHER AHEAD,
JUST KEEP TO THE EAST AND NO TROUBLE YOU'LL FIND",
And of course he was right, as we left the Sepik behind,
And crossed mountains with gaps 10,000 feet high,
With peaks of 12,000 or more to our side,
Then once over the top, down to Tari in a glide.

Then a short and smooth bus trip to the lodge we enjoyed,
With a couple of stops, the Wigman to see,
All done up in their finest wigs and regalia,
They seemed rather pleased when we said "FROM AUSTRALIA".
Then back on the highway for the rest of the trip,
(Just a forty minute ride, give or take the odd hour),
But wasn't it worth it for the splendour of Ambua.

The next day once more down the highway we went,
In luxury comfort for the pleasant short trip,
To visit the Hulis, everyone a fine fella,
And led by strange chantings from the chap with umbrella.
But with painted up faces they could not have looked finer,
With bright yellow paint they imported from China.

And then for the highlight, a pantomime Wedding,
With dramatic performance to make Hollywood tame,
But then told by our guide, in real life it’s the same.
Then at last Kathleen's question on how babies are made,
Was satisfactorily answered by Peter who said,
That whilst gardening, the wife to the bushes was diverted,
And with loving words, the man's right was asserted.
The trip back up the mountain was most successful,
As Peter managed to find every bump and pot-hole
That we missed on the way down, as we'd thump, pitch and roll.

Then a walk in the jungle to a waterfall,
With botany lesson from Joseph to enthral us all,
And back from a mu-mu lunch today,
"LIFE’S TOUGH IN THE JUNGLE" as Bob would say.
Then back down the mountain to the Airport we go,
With a man riding shotgun (just like Cobb & Co.).
The need for his presence was slowly emerging,
As two wild-looking mobs up the road were converging,
With a payback about to be settled between them.
It's pigs or a life in this justice system.

The flight back to OZ was progressing with ease,
Till Keith asked for an estimate for seven degrees,
Much flurry of maps and calculations to do,
Because our GPS thought we were going to DARU.

Now alas it's time to go our separate way,
But each and everyone will cherish our stay,
And remember adventures and friendships so great,
And vow to renew them at some future date.