Me blooda full of da Queensland,
Your country verra dry;
Me never maka no fortune
No matter how me try.

Banana getta da buncha top,
Tomato getta da blight;
Cabbage getta da avis
He looka da rotten sight.

Grub he eata da peanut,
I losa da crop of corn;
Cockatoo he eata da crop
At night and early morn.

One week verra cold,
Da next week verra hot:
Den you getta da thunderstorm
And drowna da bloody lot.

Someone doctor my red bull,
Maka him verra sick:
Cow she kicka da bucket, too,
Too much da cattle tick.

Just den I getta da cart horse,
I call ‘im Star d’ Stripes:
Only drive him two time twice,
Den da cussa getta da gripes.

I getta dam disgusted,
I gonna maka da tracks,
When da Labour Party write to me
Abouta da income tax.

Dey writa da nasty letter
To givva da man da fright,
So I writa back to tell ‘im
Da money blooda tight.

Shire Council writa too,
Dey sticka up da rate:
So I writa back to tell ‘im
To putta ‘im on da slate.

Now watta in hell to grin about,
‘Tain’t no time to laugh —
Your country blooda rotten
No doubt in more than half.

I go up to da auctioneer,
And tella him dis yarn:
I hope da cripes you blooda quick
To sella da rotten farm.

I mortgage every blooda thing
To da Agricultural Bank…
Twenty year in Quuensland
An’ I drawa da blooda blank.

— Mr. Matt Ferris in Bill Wannan’s Come in Spinner

Categories: Poems

Tags: australia, australian, cocky, farming, hardships, italian, matt ferris, poetry, queensland