(The greatest happiness for the greatest number)
And to hear the hope boy bubba tell it,
In the main it has been positive.
A rising tide to float all boats.
Twinty sicks to none:
Bouncing and yheaving.
They loaves and fishes Oztralia
Eat factory meat three times a day.
Of arid they have nothing to say.
Except to chortle on them immigents
Who are speaking too loud, taking too much.
And pollies twist and weave
The hot aired farting burst
Like stringy bark hanging
Off the swampy gum tree.
And the ute, with blond hair and a tan,
Curly capped teeth smile, sniffles
At deeds and reads the stella
Stunna version of the breast
Feeler, a quaver as well.
A swell.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Utility
Global financial crisis and all that goes with the new global village. and to much is being unsaid
Labels:
belconnen,
global village,
local,
politics
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