Australiana - Anthem & Poetry

 

 

  

 

 

 

Green And Gold Malaria
By Rupert McCall

 

The day would soon arrive when I could not ignore the rash
I was obviously ill so I called on Doctor Nash
This standard consultation would adjudicate my fate
I walked into his surgery and gave it to him straight
'Doc, I wonder if you might explain this allergy of mine
I get these pins and needles running up and down my spine
From there across my body it will suddenly extend -
My neck will feel a shiver and my hairs will stand on end
And then there is a symptom that a man can only fear
A choking in the throat and a crying of a tear
Well, the doctor scratched his melon with a rather worried look
His furrowed brow suggested that the news to come was crook
'What is it Doc", I motioned "have I got a rare disease?"
"I'm man enough to cop it so give it to me please"
I'm not to sure, he answered in a puzzled kind of way
You've got some kind of fever, but it's hard for me to say
When is it that you feel this most peculiar condition?
I thought for a moment, then I gave him my position
I get it when I'm standing at an ANZAC Day parade
I get it when the anthem of our native land is played
And I get it when Meninga makes a Kiwi crunching run
And when Border grits his teeth to score a really gutsy ton
I got it back in '91 when Farr-Jones held the cup
And I got it when Japan was stormed by Better Loosen Up
I get it when the banjo takes me down the Snowy River
And matilda sends me waltzing with a billy boiling shiver
It hit me hard when Sydney was awarded with the games
And I get it when I see our farmers fighting for their names
It flattened me when Bertrand raised the boxing kangaroo
And when Perkins smashed the record, well, the rashes were true blue
So, tell me Doc, I questioned Am I really gonna die?
He broke into a smile before he looked me in the eye
As he fumbled with his stethoscope and pushed it out of reach
he wiped away a tear and gave this stirring speech
From the beaches here in Queensland, to the sweeping shores of Broome
On the harbour banks of Sydney where the waratahs in bloom
From Uluru at sunset to the mighty Tasman Sea
In the Adelaide cathedrals, at the roaring MCG
From the Great Australian Bight up to the Gulf of Carpentaria
The Medical Profession call it "Green and Gold Malaria
But forget about the textbooks, son, the truth I shouldn't hide
The rash you've contracted here is 'good old Aussie pride'
I'm afraid that you were born with it and one thing is for sure -
You'll die with it, young man, for there isn't any cure.