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In a Place Called
In a place called Three was an old Bowthorpe Oak
Where a prince had trumped up a throne,
And though he was young where the lullula sung
He vowed he will always be known.
Jack Russell had noted pledges tall toted
With a strong impulsion to play,
For dreams had been caught from power of thought
By the son of a monarch that day.
There he declared all he was aired
Occupied only originals,
And when he was grown, he would make it well known
Australia is owned by Aboriginals.
Suns and moons passed and decades long last
Melted mere memories of bling,
Rainbow occurred when riches were stirred
For once was a prince now the King.
Though the kingship was told, flaunted, and sold
With profit from all the unplanned,
Excited, delighted and many united
That day the crown took the stand.
Where kangaroos leapt koalas had stepped
Toward the public event,
Which happened to be near a known Embassy
Of certainty Sovereignty Tent.
The air of Jack Russell provided some muscle
Whilst winking at dancing dingo,
And there on the stage a new golden age
Came from a dream long ago.
Sun had transferred love that was spurred
For light was truth that was beamed,
"Australia is owned by Aboriginals"
‘Twas then the King was redeemed.
Copyright ©
Paris-Maree Boreham
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