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

I wonder

Did old Lewis Carroll ever travel through here...