THE LION TAMER
Bob Cann South Tawton, Devon, England
There was this farmworker, you see, out on Dartmoor. He had seven kids,poor sod. Just down the road was another bloke; he had seven kids. The only difference between the two, the bloke down the road was on the dole, the social security, and he was picking up more money than this poor sod working on the farm.
So one day he thought to himself, "If I had the sack, I should be better off."
So when he went to work Monday morning the farmer set him out in the field spreading heaps of dung and he went to sleep beside hayrick. This went
on with three or four days, you see. So one afternoon the farmer thought he would go and see how he was getting on. When he gets out to the other one, a heap of dung had been spread and he found him asleep. So he kick him in the boots and woke him up and told him to come in and get his cards. So he went in and got his cards.
But the trouble was, you see, the next day he had to go to the labour exchange to sign on. And on the way in, he thought to himself, "Well, I must be clever here, because if I say I'm ... he'll sure to ask me what my occupation is, and if I say I'm a farmworker, there's plenty of farm work about and he'll put me on a farm again."
So off he goes into the office, the bloke behind the office, and he looks up and he says, "Good morning, what can I do for you?"
He says "I'm come in to sign on."
"Oh yes," the bloke said. "In case a job comes up for you, what's your occupation?"
"Oh," he said, "I'm a liontamer."
The bloke said, "What a coincidence," he said. "Yesterday the circus moved into town and the liontamer got mauled by a lion and he's in hospital. Here's
your green card, and you go down and take the job."
Couldn't do nothing about it so away he goes down. When he gets there, there was the ringmaster outside the ... outside the cage, you see, and the old bloke was shaking like hell.
And he said, "Well," he said, "I don't think I shall be any good with this job because I can see they lions don't know me, they don't like me."
"Oh," he said, "you'll get used to it after a few mauls and scratches." "Well," he said, "you'll have to tell me what to do."
Well the old bloke said, the old ringmaster said, "That's easy," he said. "All you do," he says, "you put your hand down, catch hold of a lump of meat," he said, "and throw in over the cage." He said, "You slide open the cage door," he said, "and make sure to slide the cage door shut behind thee," he said, "and make sure never to take your eyes off a lion else he'll have 'ee."
"Oh Christ," he said. "I've got to do..."
"Oh yes," he said.
"Well," he said, "what do I do then?"
Well he said, "You creep over," he said, "grab the meat and pull it away from the lion."
"Christ," he said. "What the hell do I do then?"
"Well," he said, "you'll find the lion coming towards thee, very gently. Then he's a-just about to pounce at 'ee."
"Well," he said, "what the hell do I do then?"
"Well," he said, "you go backwards," he said, "and you'll finish with your back up against the cage," he said, "and just before the lion's going to jump, pounce at thee," he said, "you keep your eye on the lion," he said, "but put your hand down," he said, "pick up a lump of dung and throw it right in his face."
"Oh," he said, "oh," he said, "no, oh," he said, "that's all right," he said, "but suppose there ain't no dung down there?" He said, "There will be."

Jim Carroll