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Ordinary
Australians
Pollies
keep waffling on about what ordinary Australians think,
what they do, what they feel, what they like to drink.
And yet I’ve never seen one with my own eyes,
an ordinary Australian, alive in the wild.
Maybe they've been wiped out, like the Tassie Tiger,
hunted to extinction, without a sole survivor.
Maybe they’re a myth like the Yowie and the Sasquatch,
the Yeti, the Dropbear or a pretty parking cop.
But eyewitnesses swear the creature's mammalian,
with both female and male genitalia.
A hairy-chested mongrel with a pair of breasts,
one old and sagging, the other quite erect.
kind of a Chameleon, hard to define,
of variable colour, creed, shape and size -
half blonde, half bald with the wrinkled face
of a crusty cane cutter, of no fixed race.
The nose is kinda Roman, the cheekbones Germanic
the brow Aboriginal, the eyes Asiatic.
It has a painter’s hands, with a shearer’s back,
the legs of a dancer and great dividin’ crack.
It drives a beat-up kombi which converts to a SAAB,
belongs to the RSL but hangs in leather bars.
It's handy with a chainsaw but loves saving whales
as a Harley Riding member of the CWA.
It begs like a bum, flaunts like a Packer
is cunning as a Skase, vacant as a Slacker,
It wears Armani, cries like a snag,
works in an abattoir done up in drag.
It plays Lawn Bowls and worships Menzies
along with the Devil in orgiastic frenzies.
It fought at Gallipoli - on both sides,
protested ‘Nam and likes to ride
skateboards, wheelchairs, prams and scooters,
it sings like Nellie Melba and swears like a trooper.
It lives in a humpy at the back of Broken Hill,
leaves Pumpkin Scones cooling on the window sill.
It goes to church Sunday, raves on Saturday night,
protests for peace, but loves a bar room fight.
It's strictly vegetarian, except for when it slips
into a country pub for bistro steak and chips.
It’s a saint like Mary MacKillop, crook as Neddy Smith
bold as Bob Ellis and loves to take the piss.
It goes to the opera and digs Figaro,
but gets more cultural kicks from the Footy Show.
It’s a Muslim, it’s a Buddhist, it’s a Christian,
it’s a Jew,
it’s a member of a Bankstown Hip-Hop crew.
lt’s centrefold sexy, rough as Bruce Ruxton,
doesn’t follow fashion or care what it chucks on.
It’s a poofter, it’s a lezzo, it’s a bloody man's
man,
it’s a ballet dancing truckie rolling rigs across the land.
It’s a junkie, a gym-head, a fully-fledged freak,
it’s a gun-toting redneck racist cyber geek.
It’s a boffin, a meathead, a petrol-headed prude,
it’s a musty academic that says hey dude,
It gets off on Coltrane, Mahler and Bach,
likes Death Metal and digs South Park.
It’s a wanker, it’s a winner, it’s a yobbo, it’s
a snob,
it’s a microcosmic member of a multi-culti mob.
There's a rumour goin’ ’round it was bred by aliens ...
but you and I know different - it’s an ordinary Australian.
Tug
Dumbly
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