The Law of the "Local".

The Law of the “Local”.

I enjoy Australian humour,
Dry as the land of it’s birth,
Hard baked, hard bitten or scathing,
Reeking of red-brown earth.

The blokes at the pub love nick-names,
Art, drowned in amber cheer,
Novitiates stand in awe,
Locals gloat or jeer.

There’s “Aspro” the slow working dope,
And “Crime” ‘cos he doesn’t pay,
“Fog” doesn’t lift before ten,
A beer and a fag start the day.

“Moth” flitting home on his way from the pub,
Is drawn to all light on his way,
And “Bikkies” ginger hair means Ginger Nuts…
What more is there left to say?

“Cadbury” drowns on a glass and a half…
I scribble on in dismay…
“Mrs. Tits” is a bit of a boobie,
And “Crime” well he still doesn’t pay.

I love Australian people
Tough as the land of their birth,
Hard bitten, hard baked, and soft at the core,
The seasoned eye knows their worth.

Full of the pride of the Anzacs,
Though mateship’s gone astray,
Lost in the amber wilderness,
The men try to find their way.

Their women are looking elsewhere,
It’s time that change had its day.
Puzzled the men down their amber.
Disgusted, the women turn away.

In the cities it’s all cosmopolitan,
Androgynous, bisexual, homo too.
In the country that’s not acceptable.
The city’s a human zoo.

I hate Australian humour,
When it’s bigoted, racist and crude,
And I loathe Australian people
When they’re apathetic, lazy and rude.

Written by Jenny Hall.