My initial favourite is a poem written by Bob for his friend, war correspondent Terence White, injured by mortars. Appropriately titled "Terence You Leatherheaded Ape", there is a hint of Baxter there in the healthy disrespect for bodily functions and actions mingling with a sense of the absurd. Quite a different tone from many of the poems which are chronicles of despair.
Heres a few lines twisting early in the poem; kiwi mateship expressed
Then I got home to the bad news
That you got wounded in the gut
Watching a rocket launcher
Firing near the front
The launcher exploded
Killing two and wounding two
And one was you
Terence you leather headed ape
You can read more about Terence White, here, in a great interview by Matt Nippert of the Listener.