Thread: how does one eat a vanilla slice?

Dullbird I declare you an official "Slice woman".

This may explain... (please dont be offended!)

& Sorry to Banjo PATTERSON!

There was movement at the station,
for the word had passed around
That Dullbird would take a Vanilla Slice on today,
And she had joined the wild bush courses -- she could weigh a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the tray.

All the tried and noted eaters from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the eaters love Vanilla where the wild vanillas are,
And the icing sugar sniffles mark the battle what delight!

There was Custard Tarts, who made their mark and early on won the cup,
But with icing sugar turning hair as white as snow;
few could taste beside Vanilla Slice when the sugar cloud was fairly up --
Dullbird would go wherever slice and man could go.

And Dullbird came down to lend a hand,
No better slice eater ever held the plates;
For never slice could throw her while the jean girths would stand,
She learnt to eat while land roving with her mates

And she was there, a small and weedy beast,
She was something like a greyhound undersized,
With a touch of defender -- three parts series 1 at least --
And such as are by vanilla slice eating men prized.

She was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that won't say die --
There was courage in her quick impatient bites;
And she bore the badge of gameness in her bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of her slice.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt her power to stay,
And the old man said, `That slice will beat you
For a long and tiring session lass, you'd better stop away,
Those Vanilla slice are far too rough for such as you.
'
So she waited sad and wistful -- only Vanilla stood her friend --
`I think we ought to let her come,' he said;
`I warrant she'll be eating with us when she's wanted at the end,
For both slice eating style and manners shows she well bred.

`She hails from down near Sydney on the nations eastern side,
And the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
And the Vanilla slice is twice as high and wide,
The woman that holds her own with a slice is good enough.

And the Vanilla Slice eaters in the cafes make their home,
Where the people seek those giant slices;
I have seen full many “slicemen” since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such slicemen have I seen.'

So she went -- they found the cafes by the big mimosa clump --
they raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, `Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy knife and fork eating now.

And, Dullbird, if you must eat them, try and lean them to the right.
Eat boldly, lass, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was sliceman that could keep the slice in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hips.'

So Dullbird ate to beat them -- she was eating on the wing
Where the best and boldest eaters take their place,
And she raced slices past them, and her lips they fair did ring
With the custard and the icing, as she met them face to face.

Then they halted for a moment, while she swung the dreaded serviette,
But they saw their well-loved lass back full in view,
And she charged beneath the icing cloud with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the crowd custard and crumbs they flew.

Then fast the slicemen followed, where their jaws had been laid slack
Resounding to the thunder as they fed,
And the empty plates made echoes, as they fiercely answered back
From watching awestruck crowd that beetled overhead.

And upward, ever upward, the total eaten that day,
Where slicemen and now slice woman grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, `We may bid the mob good day,
NO man can hold them those slices in their sides.'

When they reached the Slices finish, even Dullbird took a break,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild vanilla custard was laid thickly, and the wafer gap was full
and icing sugar laid that thickly it caused a cloud of chocking death.

But the slicewoman from down near Sydney to the waiter nods her head,
And she swung her empty plate round and gave a cheer,
And the slice raced down her gullet like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

She sent the vanilla flying, and custard hit her feet,
She cleared the fallen wafers in her strain,
And the lass from down near Sydney never shifted in her seat --
It was grand to see her fighting through the pain.

Through the vanilla, custard and sugar ground,
Through the massive slice at a pace she went;
And she never drew a breath until she Vanilla Slice Queen was crowned,
At the bottom of that slice destructing event.

She was right among the flying custard as they sat and stared at her still,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw her ply the serviette fiercely, she was right among them getting her fill,
As she raced across the clearing plate to win a bet.

Then they lost her for a moment, where clouds of icing sugar met
In the cafe, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant table the Vanilla Slices are set,
With the woman from down near Sydney at their heels.

And she lifted them single-handed till their sides were custard foam.
She followed like a bloodhound to lick the dripping tracks,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then she turned their plates for lunch,
And alone and unassisted ate them back.

But her hardy land rover it could scarcely raise a trot,
it was sagging, straining, under load it wouldn’t purr;
But it was one too many slices, Dullbird really ate a lot!!,
and never saying “no more” to her occurred!.

And down by Vanilla central, where the sugar clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white sugars fairly blaze
At the cafe where the slices she doth buy,

And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The girl from Down near Sydney is a household word to-day,
And the bakers tell the story of her feast with pride.