An Australian Sojourn
Bloody great masses of flies,
The bastards 'll pick out your eyes.
They get up yer nose
And inter yer clothes,
The bloody great masses of flies!
'Skeeters as big as a dog
Descend on yer camp like a fog,
And after confusion
Y'll need a transfusion
For every damn one is a hog!
It rains in Tasmania often.
Yer toes start to wrinkle and soften.
"It's a beautiful day"
You hear some drongo say,
As they carry you off in a coffin.
©Ciderman
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Civilisation is a veneer, easily soluble in alcohol!
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