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- 1st Traditional Verse

Poetry Competition



First Prize



Our country 's getting hotter clear from Perth to Parramatta
And we're running out of water in the Coorong and the Hattah,
For the South is getting drier while the North is getting wetter
So that what with flood and fire not a lot is getting better.

Our kids are getting fatter 'cos they never walk a metre;
They may use their thumbs to chatter but they don't know what their feet're
For; they boot up daily yet they don't get any fitter
'Cos the only games they play require the posture of a sitter.

There are folk who say 'We're stuffed, mate; life is going down the gutter.'
Others say, 'The whole thing's guff, mate, doomsday rubbish pure and utter.'
They are pessimists and optimists but I'm an in-betwixt-er:
Earth's got her knickers in a twist; it's time we up and fixt'er.

So here is a solution that'll make the pollies rattle:
If half this warm pollution's down to gas from sheep and cattle
We must clear out every moo, then, from our paddocks, and each bleater,
And we 'll stick a lot of roos in, 'cos they're burpless, green, and fleeter.

When the kiddies leave their U-Tubes and come squealing for their dinner
We'll say, 'Now your diet's Roo-Chews 'cos we need you to be thinner.
No more frozen food you pop into a microwave to heat it;
Now your dinner's on the hop; if you can catch it you can eat it.'

0, the graziers will grumble at the switch from hoofs to hoppers,
And the kids will moan and mumble at their cruel mums and poppas,
But they 'll learn to crack it hardy for our land's no laughing matter
Clear from Cooktown to Coolgardie and from Perth to Parramatta.

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