They're the unsung heroes of Japan, the backbone of their society. For those not in the know, an oba-san is a Japanese woman of mature years (let's say from 55 to 155 years old). They know everything about everything, and they're tough, mentally and physically. In honour of their power and towering significance, I've penned an ode to the oba-san.



Ode to the Oba-san

Probably born, in 1920,
Now twinkling eyes, false teeth aplenty.

Looking so innocent, pushing the pram,
Yet beneath the facade, as strong as a dam.

A gummy smile, a friendly chuckle,
But in a sumo bout, Kotooshu would buckle.

Nails for breakfast, gravel for tea,
What's for lunch, the Inland Sea?

The salaryman, gets all the credit,
But that info, I'd like to edit.

For it was the oba-san, who saved Japan,
And not the bar-coded salaryman.

They work so hard, every single day,
In the fields, no time for play.

Tattoos on arm, wigs for hair,
It makes no difference, their love is there.

Make-up on, in all the wrong places,
Looks a mess, funny faces.

Skin so pure, a heart of gold,
They're young at heart, yet really rather old.

But cross the line, or make fun of their life,
And they'll sever your kintamas, with a carving knife.

So one word of advice, towards the end of this verse,
Show some respect, and save your balls from the hearse.

Make no mistake, oba-sans are tough,
You might even fancy one, if you like a bit of rough.

Stronger now, than they've ever been,
They deserve a medal, one should be Queen.

Queen Oba-san, should one day reign,
They deserve the credit, they deserve the fame.

Japan needs them, more than they need Japan,
Cometh the hour, cometh the oba-san.

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 19, 2006 at 9:28 pm. You can skip to the end and leave a response.