Propaganda painter
No Saint was S T Gill
Knowing that in England
Wisdom was not bliss
Wise guy down in Adelaide
Thought he could alter this.
He packed his pics
With doctored bliss
That lured folks to Australia.
His bliss they found there lacking.
With wisdom still in tact
They sent the painter packing-
To goldfields, Melbourne, Sydney-this
Wise con-guy died in failure:
Wiser knowing though for sure
That wisdom can't be bliss
When wisdom's faced with fact.
And yet if he had sold the truth sublime, an anachronism not of that time, their descendants would have supped Barossa wine and an accent had with a bit less strine. Perhaps for some that came to pass, and thankful offspring tilt a glass and snoot their snout from the free settlers class, while picnicking on their broad fat grass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a wise worded poem that is blissfully a fact of life, it is no good printing from anything that is still life? ......superbly written.