Oz Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

This is the land where citrus flowers grow,
where happy fishes jump in to your eager boat,
where kangaroos are humming, always on the go
and little dogs are killed by Queensland's nasty toads.

It is the land where skies are blue and meadows brown.
Where river beds are dry and raindrops highly treasured,
where cities thrive but many youngsters do leave town
to see the outback, live there, have what they are made of measured.

It is a land where white is white and green is green,
where racial tolerance extends only to weather,
where vicious snakes and giant lizard can be seen
and other creatures roam the deserts, looking for blue heather.

Where politicians screw not wives at home but all the population,
enrich themselves and plunder all the land's resources,
until they have to go again before a dumbed down nation
for re-election where they promise all the courses
of good Beluga and Moet Chandon champagne,
while telling their constituents that things are pretty tough,
that belts need to be tightened, and 'be ready for more pain',
it is a land where all of us have finally had enough.