I’ve packed me rods and got the bait,
Now I’m out of here,
I’m goin’ fishin’ somewhere quiet,
With me comfy chair and beer.

I’m on the river Murray,
VB in me hand,
The rods are dangling over the bank,
Lord! I’m feelin grand.

Then suddenly whammo!,
The big rod’s gone mad,
I’ve hooked a bloody pearler,
Can’t wait to tell me dad.

Up and down the bank I go,
There’s a crowd all cheerin’ me on,
So I play it like a champion,
As though it weighs a tonne,

There it is, some one cried,
And the mighty tail splashed,
Water over everyone,
as it leapt and bloody crashed.

Now soon we had the camera’s,
Newspapermen and TV.
One thousand Journalists and spectators,
Here just for me.

Hours went by as I tried to hang on,
To a fish that stressed the line,
Now everyone was screamin’ at me,
Come on, hold on, you’ll be fine.

Then just when I thought I had im’,
The flamin’ line gave way.
As Moby Dick slipped my noose,
And the crowd all faded away.

Hey! how ya’ goin’ Santa Clause,
Gee your a real good bloke,
Come in and crack a coldie,
Sit down and ave’ a smoke.

Gee! those reindeer on the roof,
Sure make a lot of noise,
I bet they sound really beaut,
To all the girls and boys.

What brings ya’ to my house,
Is it the VB I leave each year,
Or do ya’ just wanna’ get pissed with me,
And smile from ear to ear.

Oi! you can confide in me,
I ain’t tellin a sole,
Bout all the bloody grog we drink,
Each darts night at the pole.

That xmas day’s a bummer though,
Cause you’re never bloody home,
And me and the boys are short one,
For the darts game while you roam.

I’m looking for my lover,
I’m looking for my friend,
A handsome Aboriginal,
Who’ll be my soul mate til’ the end.

Lonely as I am sometimes,
I’ll always live in hope,
For my very special Koori fella,
With whom I might elope.

And the day will come you’ll see,
When I find my handsome beau,
A koori man from dreamtime,
Off together we will go.

Geez ow’ ya’ go’in darlin’
Luv ya’ in those pants,
How bout we get out of ere’,
Let’s go an flamin’ dance,
So he took her to the disco,
And did Travolta proud,
She danced like the neutron bomb,
As the patrons formed a crowd.
His love for her was magic,
And she loved her farmer Michael,
She whispered quite despondently,
I’ve got me menstral cycle.
But bein’ an innocent country lad,
E’ told er this night will be beaut,
Don’t worry bout’ ya’ cycle girl,
I’ve got me uncle’s flamin’ ute.

Paolo copyright 1980

There she is mowin’ the lawn,
That wonderful gal’ of mine,
I’d be out there me self ya’ know,
If I only ad’ the time.

Stuck inside counting chores’
That some how must be done,
While she’s out there mowin’ grass,
And having heaps of fun.

Have a look at my lot will ya’,
At what I have to do,
There’s just too few hours in a day,
For golf and football too.

Crikey!, now she’s washin’ the car.
It’s a job I used to do a lot,
But I have to study the racing page,
To see which nags are hot.

Where on earth’s me morning tea,
What’s go’in’ on I’m pleading,
Do I have to do everything?
It’s only the garden you’re weeding.

My day’s a bloody disaster,
Now she’s cleaning the drive,
And me mates are comin’ for a Barbie,
Somewhere around five.

And who the hell will save me,
I need something from the shop,
But me girl is at the kitchen floor,
Bucket and a mop.

I give up a man is done,
Just cannot see the point,
Why a man has to do everything,
Just to make his point.

Copyright 2001 Paolo