The RSL Club
In a brown mirror over by the long bar
long faces delve into their drinks
and think of guns and smoke and medals
and chequered fields like Gallipoli
The barman wipes the tall glass
with a rag disacquainted with soap
while brats spoil on vegas carpet
and old bags with their fags
feed coins into pokie slots
A cacophony of beeps and rings
The occasional bingo cheer
among benches bare as brass,
we love the decor here.
Top notch! It is. World Class.
Would you be anywhere else rather?
We've bats in our trees large as dogs
and nothing to eat you 'cept spiders and snakes
The soil won't drink water that's fine
Cos the sky never rains
Land flat as ocean and red as the rust
You don't get nothing done
and why would you anyways.
A sailor from Abroad steps in
eyes all agog and a-lather
they eye him up and they eye him down
Fair dinkum, I'll stick ya a beer
And they'll be your best mates and slap yous on the back
and sell you war stories
There's nought here but that
on these unbloodied untested shores
Hearts on sleeves they'll sell their pedigree
to any half-bending ear
It'll end in a brawl as you roll out the door
on a wave thick with spume and egress
When the sun sets all is forgotten for a
Minute of teary-eyed "Lest we forget"
And yet a queen rules their hearts
In this hullabulloo with corks on a hat
Did old Lewis Carroll ever travel through here...