This is Stephen Whiteside's second self-published book. Most of the pieces date from the early 1980s when Stephen did a lot of performing. They are mostly good rollicking fun with some history, some genial satire, a little bush-philosphising and a touch of melancholy. Many of them latter-day bush ballads, and as an added grace there's a short, often affectionately deprecatory introduction to each one. You can buy a copy from www.bookstore.bookpod.com.au or, I assume, at Stephen's readings. (One last note: I suppose I should be glad of it, but I find myself lamenting that in the featured poem about the horribly cold town Omeo, he did not stoop to 'Omeo, Omeo, wherefore art thou, Omeo?')