Ararat wasn't happy,
wasn't what it was,
was ashamed how fat it became.
A TV game* came and offered hope,
and they skipped rope
to Australia's acclaim.
I watch it on and off,
the taking off and putting on,
and though I'm not a strict adherent,
I'm rooting with Australia,
for Ararat to lose its fat,
and become thin and Ararin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem