Migrants Of Sophistication Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Well they do come in droves
from the coldness of Britain
they abandon their stoves
with Down Under they're smitten.

And with visa in hand
they start looking around
they expect from this land
a nice house and some ground.

They are settled so soon
and start eyeing the locals
and they look from Yeppoon
to the South with bifocals.

Now the Natives are clever
and a bit 'sticky-beak'
in the land of the Never
there is nobody meek.

Conversations soon flourish
and ideas are exchanged
but if thoughts are to nourish
then the Brits are deranged!

Looking down on us Aussies
and critiquing our lives
that's reserved for our Mozzies
and, at times for our wives.

A gregarious lot
with the humour to please
but the fool we are not
it's the mate we do tease.

As a souvereign nation
standing proud by ourselves
your sophistication
is as dull as your elves.

As the billy is steaming
and you step off your plane
you can finish your dreaming
we don't fancy them vain.