WROP me up in me stockwhip and blanket, And bury me deep down below, Where this piffle and sham won't disgust me, In the land where the coolibahs grow; For I've stayed with some well-to-do people, And I've dined with some middle-class folk; And I've sorrowed by clock-tower and steeple Till my heart for the Commonwealth's broke.
They have flown in another direction, Who used to clack-clack by the hour Of "this awful Freetrade and Protection, " Of our dear darling member "in power, " And the Higher Religion for Dossers, And the Need of an Object for Drunks-- Now they're all of them Red or Blue Crossers, With their tails sticking out of their trunks.
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