O let there be no further green on blue.
I think this most desirable. Do you?
And let there no more be much green on green,
The worst news at the door young wives have seen.
And let us come home soon, dear God,
From paths no Diggers should have trod,
From slaughter this year, once again,
Of goats and poppy fields and men,
And wide-eyed children, wondering why
Their father so soon had to die.
His father too, for no known crime.
It’s how our Diggers pass the time
When they, long sleepless, dream of when
They’ll reach out for their wives again,
And half believe they’ll hold them soon,
If they get past the next full moon.
Afghanistan, unconquered yet,
Has messed up one more overlord, you bet,
And brought to weeping, with good cause,
Fools who still fight missionary wars
Like Bush and Blair and Howard, men
Whose like we will see, yes, again,
Whose God says go, go, go, ye shall not fail,
And then sucked in, sucked in, sucked in. Wassail.
Name:
No poem for Gina, after those couple of days of covert coitus? We know the rumours - can’t resist, apparently. Don’t want to go public with it yet?
A fine poem squire.
Who’s Gina rooting? Is it a celebrity? Or, gasp, a politician? Pyney maybe. Let’s just hope he’s on top and doesn’t get muzzled.
The strong gen is Bob and Gina were spotted penetrating a Hotel premises boundary in Randwick, and weren’t seen again for two days. The receptionist has been sacked, but no one is sure that’s where the rumour came from. Entry via a nondescript Holden Berlina with a blanket, that slipped, thrown over them.
Even then they couldn’t keep their hands and tongues off each other, apparently, as blanket and bits swarmed this way and that.
Who’s to judge? Good luck to ‘em.
Given the currency of the dobbelbanger meme, are you Gerard Henderson?
Hmmm, this may be getting out of hand….
Anyone else catch the helicopter? Where from? And only one?
A good poem, Bob.
R1,not one bit interested in whom Gina, Abbott or any celebrity or politician might be rooting…who’s on top, who’s not…
Well I’m interested and I actually fell for it but in the end it wasn’t real gossip at all, just trolling. And stop moralising at me, I care not for your insane and unexamined etiquette framework that amounts to nought. The reign of Judy Prisk, as of today, is officially over. Vale Judy Prisk. I did but see ye passing by.
It is true, I thought at first Judy was a figment of your imagination R1, until I found out she really did exist. After reading some of her columns and seeing the low response rate, I could not imagine how many followers she must have had on Twitter.
I tried to do the right thing and offered to pay Fairfax the ransom they must have demanded. They told me there was no ransom and that Prisk was the Fraulein Kampusch of the SMH, they left the door open on many, many occasions but she refused to go.
She will leave a huge hole in Fairfax, but a stronger sense of ethical fairness and a striving for erudite journalism, an eternal flame. On Judy’s instruction I now keep a dictionary next to my hart.
What a beautiful and sad poem - thank you.
beautiful.
And let us not forget the wailings of their families, forever. They are real. But the politics is not. While the folly is. And was always going to be. That is the tragedy. Well done Bob.
‘These last two years,’ the General said/
‘just fifty blues have been shot dead/
and just be sure you’ve got the thought right/
that’s only one a bloody fortnight.’
‘Besides, we’re pulling stumps and leaving./
A minimum of families grieving. Yet./
Just wait for green-on-green…/
The hardest Digger is not a machine.’
Lawson would be proud of you Bob