Royal Thoughts Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

There's talk again
of a republic, Jeeesus.
A lad named Turnbull,
rich and so recalcitrant
now in the forefront of
a movement, perhaps doomed.

The head of state in Oz
is still the British Queen
with all her family, like Charles
and all her royal baggage.
Now I have seen a better head
on many schooners of the amber fluid
though she could chew the fat I s'ppose
with any bludger or a blowie
but would she know what is fair dinkum
when first she meets a nutducker out west?
A cabbage patcher from Victoria,
to cotton onto, well, I do believe the queen
would likely feel like one of those
pick-pockets in a nudist camp,
so this I say, out here in this fine place
called Woop-Woop, where the rules of Rafferty
and other jumbucks of the Never Never count
we do not need the cornstalks of the South,
nor 'nanabenders nor country bumpkins
we have our ruby dazzlers, in Bazzaland,
so keep the illiwhackers, even royal ones
in merry old where the galahs and ningnongs live
all pommies would soon bark or call a Ralph
I'll have a cuppa now and think about the turps
and whether we might ever be on sticky wicket
I think I'll send the queen an issue of Bagman's gazette.