Mr. Harbour-side Mansion, or so he’s been called, waved and smiled at those below him
Leather jacket gone, I lean to the right, I’ll do whatever you say, He told ’em
Two Thousand and Sixteen, I’ve been the selfie-Queen, everyone will recognise me
‘Cept that lady on the train, who was clearly insane, “Mr. PM” is how they baptised me.
And the auto-smile gleamed all teeth and no soul, a potato stood tall on his right
The show is yours, get a thund’rous applause, and use some racist barbs if you might
So the Potato man spoke of days long ago, when Fraser was the man of the hour
And racist barbs hurt, with slander so curt, by a ‘Tay-tah with far too much power
Then out of the herd like an emu necked bird came squawking ’bout workers conditions
With harsh Aussie twang that sends sane men insane, she screamed with zero contrition
“Oi’m ‘ere to break the See. Eff. Em. EEE. EWE, those thugs in the builders construction
And as I toik the stand, Oi’ve Poileen boi me hand ‘n Xylophone too, that’ll stuff ’em
Although we’ve one seat, with the lower house peeps, the Liberals, I don’t recognise ’em
I’ll Facebook and Hash, that Labor’s so Trash, says Green man to the echo beside him
What’s a man to do, with votes worth so few, ’tis the way to Gov’ment I beseech thee
Fighting Tories? Insane!! Labor bashings the game, who knows I might get a min’stry
You’ve been aggrieved? said the speaker with Cred to the man at the back of the chamber
He licked his lips, smiled and stood there a while, Oh Yes, My word, indeed I have Sir!
Now this man is no dolt, he’s seen them there polls, all sad and wet for old Malcolm
With Bill gaining fast, the Killing Seasons Cast, He’ll be slipperier than a stripper’s pole with talcum
And who’s smarter than NASA? Empirical Boy is? with his conspiracies of climate denial
With hand on heart for his redhead upstart, who screams racism and denies her own bile
But come one and all to the Facebook popcorn ball, and get set to watch the implosion
as the workers they hate ‘n say the ABCC’s great, Don’t blame me, you bastards chose ’em
And there stands Bill, looking to the light on the hill, with Gough shining down upon him
You nearly had it mate, 2017 is looking great, Solidarity forever -always remind ’em
Don’t let the Tories and Nationalists stick it to the boys, toiling hard in torrid conditions
Speak loud for the worker, day in and day out, and always, always stand with ’em
For the Shearers they bled, were jailed and they died to stop these bastards takin’ over
It’s your grit ‘n your guts, ‘n even Sam n’ your bus, that’ll take us back from that poser
Like the Shearers ‘n Stockade, fight with your might, paint the towns Red instead of Blue
Stick to your guns, and the workers’ll come, cos in their hearts they’ll recognise you.
The Red Window 
A reminder of where fairness and gratitude came from
Thank you Trish
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Posted by Bighead1883 | December 6, 2016, 11:36 pmI can recognise a bit of everything C.J.Dennis there!
https://pbxmastragics.com/2016/12/02/its-december/comment-page-6/#comment-256894
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Posted by freefall852 | December 7, 2016, 7:44 amWell that is a compliment! Thank you.. The first Australian poem I ever learnt was “The Circus” By CJ Dennis. First public speech and drama event as well at seven years old. I love Australian Poetry with a passion.
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 7:48 amYes..there is a touch of the “ratbag” in even the most serious pieces..as if the writer is aware of too much brightness in the wide Aust’ landscape to take most things too seriously..but then when they do, they hit right to the core of the issue..
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Posted by freefall852 | December 7, 2016, 7:52 amWow that is such a beautiful description of our unique bush poetry and so accurate.
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 7:54 amFreefall852
I think you hit a point there comrade, we tend to get all serious and let the grubby events drag us down.
I am of the generation where pollies addressed workplaces and on the waterfront where I worked, I miss the laconic larrikin that was inevitably in most workplaces then.Now technology and the “me” generations are depriving us of social interaction.
I used to go to “Politics in the Pub” that was held around here but would come away felling like shit and sick of staring at the self obsessed angry crowd that were usually there on single issue politics.
While I acknowledge we are in a terrible period there is still good in this world,good people too and enough people like Trish fighting to make a difference that I hold out hope for a better future.
We need to fight hard to keep Labors hard fought gains but we also need to keep a spirit of civility and goodwill or we will all go crackers.
Get me a few more larrikin politicians like Fred Daley and a few more comrade willing to see a ray of sunshine ahead,l am over grumps
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Posted by Ned Hockey | December 7, 2016, 2:15 pmTrish, well done, again!
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Posted by townsvilleblog | December 7, 2016, 12:11 pmThanks Shaun
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 12:36 pmHere’s a little effort by yr’s T..you may find sympathy with.
https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/08/20/the-fallen/
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Posted by freefall852 | December 7, 2016, 8:46 amThx I’ll have a look when I’m on the computer
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 9:00 amVery moving indeed. Thank you for sharing
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 1:15 pmMs Corry this seems to fit here comrade, another in the series regularly sent to me
I love this bloody country
this land of booze and honey
of Opera House and Harbour Bridge
of shearing shed ’n’ dunny
I love this bloody country
where the sea is full of sharks
where there’s redbacks on the toilet seat
where your car gets booked by narks
I love our bloody country
this island Gert by sea
of rabbit, snake and cane toad
and the eucalyptic tree
Where your pollies are all ratbags
either that or on the take
where it’s hard to tell the difference
between reality and Rake
Where your team gets trounced each Saturday
and your pub runs out of beer
where you’re bank-robbed by the CBA
and nagged by Germaine Greer
I love this bloody country
of drought and flood and fire
with asylum seekers welcomed
with lots of razor wire
Where bigotry is Brandis’d,
and tolerance? A mockery,
thanks to ranting, raving racists
in the ranks of our shock-jockery
I love this bloody country
this land we call Australia
which has an awful anthem
coz Australia rhymes with failure
Australian stories end in woe
Or in acute embarrassment
like Gallipoli and Burke & Wills
and Rolf’s revolting harassment
(Another woeful ending’s
in our national song
when a suicidal swaggie
drowns in a billabong.)
I love this bloody country
where nothing could be finer
than to have the place exported
by some rapacious miner
Our commonwealth of minerals
by legislative stealth
goes to Clives and Ginas
to create uncommon wealth
And while Gina counts her billions
we must count the cost
in budget cuts to everything
because of taxes lost
Once Australian megawealth
was the gift of the merino
now it comes from human sheep
fleeced in James’ casino
Why salute the Union Jack
on our patriotic rag?
a Dickies towel or galvo sheet
would make a prouder flag
(The Queen’s a nice old lady
but it’s really time to ditch her
– better that our head of state
was someone like Lowitja.)
I love this bloody country
where all our famous brands
from Vegemite to Qantas
are flogged to foreign lands
And where our trad Australian slang
(drongo, dinky-di ’n’ dingo)
is forgotten in the rush
to Coca-culture lingo
I love this bloody country
it really could be worse
when this ancient columnist
goes from bad to verse
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Posted by Ned Hockey | December 7, 2016, 12:40 pmI absolutely love this! Thanks Ned.
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Posted by trishcorry | December 7, 2016, 1:14 pmBloody love this poem Ned
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Posted by Bighead1883 | December 7, 2016, 2:33 pm