Australia Day
Sheep shit in the South Pacific. With your baa lambs and your empty sky, you big fella stretched out in sun drying. Sunburnt. Sleepy. Empty. You lucky bastard of a country. You your own planet, your own boss cockie -- claiming all the sheep shit and blowies. My country, my land, my suburban quarter acre block with 3 b/rms, VJ interior, carpeted floors, refurb kitchen and all cons. You it. You girthed by sea. You John Howard. You Kevin rudd. You gloating in your wee little aussie battlers this small. You the underdog. You all mates. You hate boongs, poofs, sheilas ... but love a shag, a beer and a day at the footy. You say: Up there Cazaly! and watch the replay on the box. God! You love this country! (But never say so 'til you're pissed.) You love the RSL (same thing). You can play the pokies, have a beer and feel real proud to be an aussie. Too right! Waltzing Matilda you come a waltzing with me. Green and gold to win. You say: don't put that in your mouth, some Chinaman could have been wiping his bum with it! You say: wog. You say: we're not racist. You say: please explain. You say what they want you to say. You say: let's go for a swim. So you stretch out on the border of sand with the 15+ and the kids, and work on your melanoma. You sleep in this land of the real long smoko; work, breed, and then you die. But first we celebrate this day of all days -- Australia day. Day 1. And with chicken pox and poison baits and murder and rape we peopled the empty place downunder with those who could speak as we do and know an abo when we see one. The day we began, way back when one flag could claim it all.
So with a sprig of wattle in our hand we celebrate from whence we came. Australians! You true blue sons and daughters of Oz! I ask you to charge your glasses and raise your voices. And let's hear it for all the dinky-dis out there: Australians let us rejoice, for we are young and free ... etcetera.
--Dave Riley
