Note: Aimed at an Australian audience, though I imagine similarly execrable hackneyed forms occur in other cultures and languages.
I love a well-worn cliché
Where the Snowy River reigns
We don’t need no quiche, ay,
On the Oodnagalabi Plains.
Some doggerel out of Gundagai
Old regrets we used to know
And stone the crows that fill the sky
Along the Malonglo.
Our patron saint, The Banjo,
Of Waltzing Matilda fame
Makes our very hearts glow
With his verses, both halt and lame.
Close behind is Henry Lawson
With his tales of outback life
Though goodness knows what Freud would’ve made
Of the snake and The Drover’s Wife.
The Bulletin let them have their say
And the bush bards told it true
Of characters met along the way
But no Afghan, black or Jew.
So Akubra on and pen in hand
Churn out some turgid lines
About some Never-Never land
And make sure the bastard rhymes.
Six Crooked Highways 
Doug I’ve been enthralled since managing to log in…thanks
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Thanks so much, Vera. It warms a writer’s heart to get feedback.
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This is great, Doug, I read it twice.
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Well thanks and thanks again, Roberta 🙂
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I think I’ve seen that ‘doggerel out of Gundagai’. Someone pushed him over not long ago!
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But he will rise again, Frank, and no doubt some bush poet is poised to record the moment in deathless rhyming prose 😉
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Amen.
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Not from down under, but I still managed to enjoy it. Great work.
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Thanks, floatinggold. Always good to know that the local vernacular still translates to other places.
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I was here and I enjoyed that. And the bastard rhymed.
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Your Everyday Joe.
I’m the red-necked man from Snowy River,
I’m a racist asshole, set in my racist ways
I possess ten thousand acres and a shitty liver
And yearn for the good ol’ Bjelke Petersen days.
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I think you’ve got the hang of it 😉
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