Song: Some (Mixed)favoured Things Poem by Dave SmithWhite

Front bars and sawdust,
And the sweet stench of midden.
The six o'clock swill,
And the sly grog shops forbidden.
The fail-safe of 'Aussieness':
When men were kings.
These are among my least favoured of things.

Souped-up old Holdens.
Surfers on beaches.
Bikinis and girlfriends,
Sandgropers and leeches.
The rapid changes and strangeness,
As a new day begins.
These are among my most favoured of things.

So the memories are stored up,
Like bolts from a draper.
The lure of bog rolls,
And lavatory paper.
When such embedded, folk wisdom wins.
These are among my least favoured of things.

When the end comes,
Will the bells ring?
Will it be, that bad?
No-one left to remember,
These untempered things.
Making it all real,
And sad.

Union led pickets,
And direct action.
The women's lib movement,
At last getting traction.
With the embers of struggle,
And the trouble it brings.
These are among my most favoured of things.

The street girls in prim curls,
And the chicks in tight trousers.
The strings of the black pearl,
That stud my white blouses.
Some small redemption, for all of our sins.
These are among the best favoured of things.

Who beats the drum?
When now no bees sting.
Should we be, immune, a tad?
When we engender, this fetish for things,
Who's there to conceal,
The fad?

Skinny-dipping with teachers,
The priests and their creatures.
Sitting on bleachers,
Exhorted by preachers.
Hearing lectures by lechers,
Dripping with bling.
These are among my least favoured of things

Mung beans and young teens,
And hippies in 'Kombi's.*
Dancin' with Manson,
And walking with zombies.
Tuning the pitchfork,
As the tumbrel's wheels spin.
These are among my least favoured of things.

When the bells toll,
Will the fat lady sing,
Why will it be, so bad?
Will the virus, inspire us,
As eternal hope springs?
And all is revealed,
As mad!