Best Dinkum Poems
Once there was dingo, rabidly mad as he could be
who thought he was a Bruce of a man by how he spoke
But no man would call him their 'mate,' for you see...
he was a mongrel dog who pretended to be a bloke
The dingo who called himself 'Keefer,' was all talk-no bite
got caught chasing a galah (chicken) for want of a feast.
But ol' Keef got clawed by the rooster night after night
He was a drongo (fool) who thought he was a beast.
"Crikey!" I heard real men screaming from inside a bar
when they laughed at Keef wearing daks (male trousers)
He tucked his tail and ran from feathering with hot tar
"Get out, ya Hoon (hooligan)! We scorn rabble-rousers!
Keef was a loud mouth when he was blotto (inebriated)
Downing snag (sausages) and guzzling frothy (beer).
Tried to mate with a sheila (girl) but he'd been castrated.
Fair dinkum (that's true). He was neutered last year.
Some say he likes wearing female clothes, they swear.
He's such a hostile dingo, telling them to 'Rack OFF!'
But there's pictures of him in knickers (ladie's underwear).
and some of him before his little stub was sawed off.
I guess sometimes he gets to feeling clucky (maternal)
cuz he uses phrases like 'mother this and mother that.'
Looks like he'll end up some place heated and infernal
Dingo Keef's punishment for hurling all those brickbats.
A rabid dingo, that fool proved to be a fizzer (fizzled out)
His rants and threats to beat guys up were just a joke,
who was well-known as a bogan (hick) and a social lout
who accepted the truth. Ol' Keefer is now socially 'woke.'
Last I heard of him, he'd taken up with a mate called, Roo.
Another misfit creature roaming around in the outback
He played for hours each night, blowing into his digeridoo
because he couldn't stand Keef's braggin' and talkin' smack.
Roo felt relieved when the dingo, kinky Keefer disappeared
The one who'd been called 'the blunder from down under.
He'd mumbled for days about Milton Creek and Roo feared
that dingbat dingo would try to tear that town asunder.
FARMERS WISH
Woke up this morning with the sun in my eyes
Wishing for rain in the clear blue skies
We’re faced with a problem every single day
Our stocks are all dying right were they lay
Tanks are all empty once again, bore’s all dead & dry
Banks want more money, but lord how I try
Year after year praying for rain
Hail Mary, my prayers are in vein
I can remember when I was a boy
My dad and his dad too, had so much green
Had so much green green grass
We used to play and swim in the creek
But all that I’m left with is barren ground
More dead sheep, stacked ten deep
I can’t give up not while I breath
Cause I’m a fair dinkum Aussie guy,
Who never ever gives up
Too much to live for before I say goodbye
So while there is food on the table and a beer in hand
I’ll keep on fighting for my home on the land
With my wife standing tall along my side
We’ll keep on fighting till the day we say goodbye
I love a sunburnt Aussie bloke, with great big, muscled arms,
His rugged well-built shoulders, and face with all its charms.
I love his thongs and singlet too, and stubby shorts you see,
His beer gut proudly hanging out, he is the one for me,
I love his Aussie greeting way “‘G’day mate” when we meet
His laugh so loud, make no mistake, you’ll know him in the street.
I love the Aussie Sheila too, she’s really trim and taught.
Long legs, tight skirt, big bust, great smile, a real good-looking sort.
I love her when she’s on the beach, bikini clad real brown,
Or when she meets her friends for lunch, all dressed up for the town.
I love her friendly way she says “G’day mate” when we meet
Her laugh so loud, make now mistake you’ll know her in the street.
I love an Aussie BBQ, with lamb chops, snags, and steak
And ‘Big Red’ sauce, a loaf of bread, some salads we do make.
I love the Aussie breakfast time with Vegemite on toast
Or Sunday lunch no better that an Aussie dinkum roast.
I love our wine and spirits too, but best is Aussie beer
It’s Fosters, Gold or Tooheys Blue, you won’t find soft drink here.
I love our sport, we watch a lot, of course we are the best,
We’re always fair, we understand, just better than the rest.
I love the Aussie rules we play, that’s football, not ping pong
And how the crowds call out real loud if the umpie gets it wrong.
I love the summer tennis too; it’s watched by young and old
Or a cricket match the Aussie way, dressed in the green and gold.
I love our patriotic style, the anthem that is sung
‘Advance Australia Fair’ I think, don’t know the words just hum.
I love our multi-cultural race, from lands quite near and far,
As a nation proud we do stand because that is who we are.
I love the freedom that we have, our wide brown land to roam
This place we call Australia; this place we call our home.
In the land of Oz, we're all fair dinkum,
Every bloke, Sheila and Healer too.
By crikey mate, if you get us started,
You'll regret the day I guarantee you.
In bonza days some may call hard yakka,
With an esky chockers and a barbie that blares.
Strewth! I tell you even our bogans are grouse,
Where else can you find platypodes and Koala Bears?
So spend an arvo or two and don't be a bludger,
Smoke a durry and blow the froth off a few.
You'll be saying "Man, that was a bloody ripper",
So get off your dunny and tell a furphy or two!
If you're thinkin' of comin' over, but not too sure,
Just have a go, ya mug, you may just find.
The best place to go walkabout and make new friends,
But don't be a goose and leave your goon bag behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We're as Aussie as "You Beaut",
We're as Aussie as the Holden ute.
We're as Aussie as a kangaroo,
We're as Aussie as we're "True Blue".
Hilly lent me his post hole digger ‘cause I’m putting up a fence
around me veggie garden, so I could give it some defence
from marauding sheep and cattle that some keep on their block,
and forget about their fences, so I feed their wandering stock.
They eat all my silver beet and give me cabbages all hell,
and what the mongrels don’t prefer they trample in as well,
but I suppose there is one upside with growing what they eat,
for now and then the neighbours stock have saved us buying meat.
That post hole digger made life easy where it twisted in the ground,
instead of digging with a shovel that near breaks me back I found.
So with treated pine snug in their holes and rails upon the face,
I cleaned up the post hole digger to return to Hilly’s place.
I thought I’d leave it ‘til the morn although it has to be ‘round eight,
for that’s the latest Hilly’s sober, so nine o’clock is way too late.
But as it happened I slept in and got around there close to ten,
then for a moment I had thought that Hilly’s drunk again.
He was prowling ‘round the kitchen with a fly swat in his hand,
sneaking up to where the blighters were trying hard to land.
I asked him what he’s doing and with a mad look in his eyes,
Hilly said one got in his porridge so he’s killing all the flies.
Well I suppose sometimes we lose the plot and do get over keen,
but he would have got ‘em in one go by spraying with mortein,
so I asked him “Have you killed a few?” Then heard one of his jokes,
“Yeah, I’ve cleaned up five” he said - “Two sheila’s and three blokes”.
I could see that he’s fair dinkum ‘cause they’re splattered on the sink,
but how he knew what sex they were made me stop and think.
I asked “How do you tell the sex of flies?” Of course I should have known
when Hilly grinned - “Three were on the beer cans and two were on the phone”.
Written: October 05, 2023
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Where the paradisiacal angels reside.
A myriad of creatures, ebony and betide
A dinkum dissolute and a discreet divine,
A degree of dexterity, a denizen decline
Amidst the mahatmas and zeitgeist calls,
An indweller quests for lyricism thrall.
A martyrdom route, an incubus chase,
Eristic battles in the realm of grace
A proponent of verity, a wraith of anile,
Sought to indwell the hearts of enamel.
A sip of soma, a savor of seraglio supine,
Agnostic beyond, for the geist did shine.
Destructive metempsychosis, a mortal plight,
Internal battles, seeking inspirational light.
In the realm of the departed, desolate cries
A crybaby tears, but awe-inspiring skies
Departed souls, once heartsick and heartsore,
Find solace in the trust they restore.
For in the internal depths, a spark ignites.
And as the decedents rise, their souls bear flight.
Absolve afreets, the anxiousness abides,
Embrace the beatitude; sublimity resides.
Rawness of a sentimentalist, troubadour song,
The immanence of duende is pantywaist wrong.
In the realm of the spiritual, the snarl of sin,
Is replaced by beatitude, the soul's win.
Spotless and unsullied, cleansed of all pain,
The spiritual journey is the ultimate gain.
They sully the cosmic force with opulence.
Yet, the sunny glow of bliss starts radiance.
A troll in the netherworld, forlornness abounds,
In the cognition of theosophy, the soul rebounds.
Every day in every country,
Our language is distorted, mutated on planet Earth.
Good words like “drolic” die,
Whilst “wanna ‘ave a go” is given a birth.
In Australia it’s clearly a Mad World with
Slang words destroying our grammar.
“Yeah naah, naah yeah”
Smash literature, smash it with a hammer.
We always modify and contort our words,
“Too right, this arvo, I’m rooted, go crack a fat”.
Aussies go getting’ it written in permanent,
“Good onya” a fair dinkum tat.
When u were left alone, alone to fight,
Fight for survival, u gave it a crack.
But the society of dictionaries, they stood,
Stood up straight, and then they turned their back.
So, traditional writing is dying,
Stuttering, falling, the writing’s on the wall.
See ya later elocution,
Ya didn’t shorten, that’s been ya downfall.
But alas, don’t freak, ur family name is safe,
Since some old words evolve and new are created.
Shakespeare invented and killed off heaps himself,
Arch villain, rant, drugged and assassinated.
Lyric: Mad world
Cliche: The writing on the wall
Image: Crowd of people turn their backs on a fight
Entered into "Lyrics cliché image" contest 5/14/2016, ranked First place
A flathead once carried in his tuckerbag a grinder
So hungry he sat at a fair dinkum binder
But he won't trust his eyes
When a fellow donkey arrives
To eat up all the remainder
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Aussie-Talk: A tuckerbag is a bag carrying food by a swagman (= hobo)
A binder is a solid meal
Fair dinklum means excellent
A flathead is a fool
A donkey is a stupid person
By Robert (Bob) Moore (©2015)
The gun shearer has gone now, like many other things
the shearing sheds are empty, and wools no longer king
gone now like the drover, and the brumbie on the plains
but we still have the scorched brown earth, and droughts and soaking rains
The aussie language has almost gone , the things we used to say
fair dinkum sport, and ridgie didge, and hello was “G’day”
no “its your shout” “snakes in your pocket” “he’s a bonza bloke”
“Bloody oath” and “Dinky Di” and “can’t you take a joke”
no footy shorts and tshirt, an Akubra hat was neat
now its baseball caps and hoodies, and Nikies on your feet
you don’t drive a Holden car, you drive a Nissan tank
the aussie way of life is gone, you can take that to the bank
once you could walk along the street, anytime without a care
bread and milk delivered to your door, the money you’d leave there
upon the step, with empty bottles, people just walked bye
no way that you could not do that now, and you wouldn’t even try
no bangers on the barbie, with a great big piece of steak
Hoges even calls a prawn a shrimp, the Americans to placate
used to say “a barbie out the back”, but now its “al fresco”
with emu, ostrich, and crocodile, and some you may not want to know
now everything is different, but did it all go wrong
can we say that it’s just progress, and we are where we belong
multicultural, many Nations, trying to live as one
no manufacturing anymore, all of that has gone
Is it still a Western Culture here, an Anglo-celtic race
or has it changed, to something else, at a slow, unnoticed pace
there’s Catholics, Buddhists. Muslims, there’s Anglicans and Jews
in every tier of government, and controlling all the news.
So we only know what we are told, and pretend that we don’t see
what’s happening to this Country, ‘cause that’s just not PC
so soon the Lucky Country, may not be lucky anymore
and we’ll find the life which we once knew, has walked right out the door
The primacy of love is 'totalmente' undisputed,
An authority of orderliness in a tumultuous society,
A powerful dose to subdue war;
A conspicuous symptom of our world's malady.
Love 'originalism' is not 'paternalism' but an explicit form of 'maternalism',
It's not a brimborion expression nor a vacuous indoctrination,
It's not professions of some 'high-falutin' 'gran rabino',
But an absolute lifestyle of a dinkum person.
(c) 2011
Fair dinkum mate I feel like a Tassie Tiger
And I’m not bullin’ you, and a real galah as well
How come this bloody sheila to such charms succumbs
I’m telling you me heart is racing and I feels like bloody hell
Might as well get stuck on the plonk and not sweat on it
Me life’s not worth a quid, cripes I’m really in a jam
I’m writing nothing but gobbledygook, I’m really up ****creek
Maybe I should kybosh this and shoot through like a Bondi tram
Don’t know if I’m Arthur or Martha and me pins feel bloody weak
She’ll me right mate, me mates all say, he’s got buckley’s chance
So don’t just sit there like a stunned mullet, gal give it a go
Cripes love is in the air, and there are sure no flies on you
So put in the boot, and all bloody caution to the wind blow!
Tassie Tiger – extinct species
Bullin’ – kidding
Galah – an idiot
Sheila – woman
Plonk - cheap wine
Not Sweat on- not wait apprehensively
Quid – 2 dollars
Gobbledygook – nonsense
Up *****creek – in trouble
Kybosh – put a stop
Shoot through like a Bondi tram - make a speedy departure
Arthur or Martha - state of confusion
She’ll be right mate - giving reassurance
Buckley’s chance - no chance at al
Give it a go - tryl
No flies on you – you’re smart
Put in the boot -Drive home the advantage
Bloody streuth look out mate here they come
The Tourists Downunder to have some fun
Clickin’ their cameras, looking goggle eyed
While out in the hot sun getting deep fried
Askin’ for service and getting in our hair
Makes you wonder if there really all there
Thinkin’ it Spring in the middle of May
Speakin’ foreign lingo, as they say G’Day
Forget we’re multi-cultural and highly urbanized
Give em the Aussie salute that the ads advertise
Imports are out, the Aussie image wins
Now here’s were your work it really begins
Wear Moleskins, an Akubra, Drizabone
Hide the credit cards and Bluetooth phone
Cover the microwave, throw out Sarah Lee
From now on its damper, pavolvas and billy tea
Yack about the outback and the old pioneers
Have a bush Barbie and down a few beers
Quote a couple of verses from old Banjo
Hobnob round the fire, put on a dinkum show
Get out the four wheel and take em for a drive
Never mention our crooks can eat you alive
Ignore all the snakes, sharks, mozzies and the flies
Crows flying backwards, and them peckin’ magpies
Explain that kangaroos don’t hop down our streets
Nor for breakfast do we bush tucker eats
Throw a boomerang, take em to a corroboree
Tell em the tour guides take care of the fee
Bush dances are popular, and so is Uluru
Dingoes, frilled lizards and wallaby stew
Show em the Australia that we’ve never seen
Mate tourists on nature are so bloody keen
Let em hug a koala, they’re as cute as can be
Just watch the bloody bastards don’t on em pee
Before they go home, help them spend all their loot
Then add departure tax, so they’re real destitute.
Sing “Waltzing Matilda”, “Advance Australia Fair”
In those tourist dollars, we all want to share
This Aussie image to some may seem passé
Mate you watch em flock here, what more can I say!
Lake Eliza
Out by poor old Lake Elisa lived a moody ancient miser.
Who bemoaned his fate throughout the livelong day.
lived further west than Isa out where the heat and flies are.
So he plotted as he moaned "I'll find a way?".
Oh this fellow loved a lady one Cherolyn O'Grady,
so besotted while he sauntered from insanity to mad.
For it seems she was his sister Joe O'Grady never kissed her,
She'd run off to Coolgardie selling favours to the sad.
Oh it seems his mind could wander,
through the desert just out yonder.
It got sunstruck when his hat it blew away.
In his youth there'd been a Rhonda.
Who'd enticed him made him fonder.
But the tribe had gone on walkabout the next day .
Though really none the wiser, he set out from the Isa,
Went to Brisbane met a shiela sweet and gay.
It was down in the Valley, she had whiskers this O'Malley,
blue round the jowls, Joe loved her anyway.
She took him home to her place into the bedroom they raced,
Joe's mouth it opened slackjawed in suprise .
For it seems she wasn't dinkum through the haze of grog he's drinking.
Saw parts of her to trade for many lies.
This city woman strange wanted money had no change,
Took his fifty as she pushed him out the door .
Hooked like a dog to mange, could a wedding he arrange?
But she dumped him anyhow cos Joe was poor.
So back to Lake Elisa went this sodden whinging miser.
Drowning sorrows O.P. rum, drinking bottles by the score,
Just a little sad but wiser, now he'd never leave Elisa. So he drank himself to death
there by her shore...by Don Johnson
We Aussie like to have a bite
Of bread and butter and vegemite
We’ll save a Crumble bar for you
Cherry Ripe and Lamingtons too
With snags and meat pies all life long
Instant Pavolvas seem all wrong
Toohey’s and Carlton bring real cheer
Four XXXX and Fosters fair dinkum beer
Gran took Vincents with confidence
Bushell’s tea Mums preference
She takes the tea with Sarah Lee
Guess that’s not quite real Aussie
Neither is Arnotts, or Lean Cuisine
Coke, Pepsi , Big mac or Dairy Queen
Eating at the pics with my mates
Minties and Jaffa chocolates
Now the swaggie my mates and me
We really like strong Billy tea
Damper and meat pies still true blue
Aussie products for me and you
For kangaroo meat the prices are high
Fair dinkum tucker you cannot deny.
Though the Yanks grab all they can
Witchery grubs just ain’t in their plan!
Gb2 's a radio show, it airs in Sydney...But there's more to know.'
Ben Fordam has been speaking out, on the covid dictates
Roundabout on where the science meets the facts
Whether it's all altruistic.? Or do some just act?
Also acts that block, that rile and shock; that lay down demands
That cost a lot..' Much production is de-railed; Aussie
Dreams now are ships with tattered sails, I hear that Ben is
Triple vaxed.. ) an early advocate, was his shout not so lax.'
Yet now he'll listen to anti-views ' To me that rings like
Dinkum news.' He' on facebook; and also twitter He's
A sounding board; and I'd reckon, a real heavy hitter.'
I haven't met the man as yet.' But I like the idea that
He's listening, and talking.' that's the part I really get.!
Go for it Ben,.' I will also here give mention to another
Australian heveyweight journalist Andrew Bolt a legend
In his time and this field, who has been questioning things
And even resigned, from the official endorsed media he
Was involved in, If I get time I will do him in a piece also '