He's had enough of idea-illogical drivel
Too right mate.' I think their brains have
Shrivelled, she'll be right..I say g'day
It allows more time for ( deep contemplation ) in the Aussie way.' We're
Pretty low key.' But don't let it fool ya.'
Cause in linguistics..We can stick it to ya.'
We exell at sports, and here you can still
Find; real men, lean as whalebone up to
Six feet ten , and lissome sheilas who can
Surf the swells, and care for kids..'
So very well, we don't go for souks here.'
We breed'em strong, love the footy fishing
And Slim Dusty songs' Also Stan Coster
well who could forget.? And air supply
( easy listening you bet') Livvy and the seekers
Redfern too' marcia hines, all good through
And through.'
Fishwives
In junkets to
the golden shore
Beside the cobalt
sea of lore
Was told of dwellings
and rapscallions
Of ramshackled wood
and galleons.
Where ancient mariners
and the breeze
Sailed upon
the unknown seas,
Where wives and fish,
in nets, were caught,
And the spoils of labour
sold and bought,
And 'neath the starry skies
would sing
Of trawlers and
the nets they'd fling,
Starboard bow
and guillemot peck
The flapping herring
upon oily deck.
Where wives and fish,
of griddle and broth
Spit and cuss
in their beery froth,
And carving ships
in dry whalebone
The men, of gods
and serpents, moan.
By dark, by habit,
by candle lit
Gather in separate
huddles, sit,
Weary lines upon
a salty thread
Weave and knot
their minds to bed.
To dream of junkets
to a golden shore
Where told of dwellings
that are no more,
Where supper served
in a driftwood dish
Would taste as sweet
as wives and fish.
MISTER BALEEN
limerick
Mister Baleen got a whalebone
He went to a charmer Doctor scone
Doctor went to granny
She was very funny
Put bone on griddle to make a clone
© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty December 2014
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