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Gedicht

Alan Wearne

Gallipoli 2005

Gallipoli 2005

Gallipoli 2005

Hear the way élitists snigger
over our latest Little Digger;

well funny how there’s nothing said
when I address our living dead,

nor softest heckling intrudes
upon their mate’s beatitudes.

(Yet how can I . . . let’s clear some phlegm . . .
show I feel like one of them?

And how to find which words to choose
for ‘Fellas, I’m near one of youse’?)

Oh that my final battler breath
was breathed beside the AIF.

When little tops a patriot
line up lads, let’s see us shot!

Darwin to Cooktown via Geelong
my heart tells me where I belong:

hear it pounding beaut beaut beaut,
soundbites and a photoshoot.

Go slam shut each trendy gob,
I’ll take my orders from the mob.

Ahh democratic treasure trove,
let’s jet home to Anzac Cove!
Alan Wearne

Alan Wearne

(Australië, 1948)

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Gallipoli 2005

Hear the way élitists snigger
over our latest Little Digger;

well funny how there’s nothing said
when I address our living dead,

nor softest heckling intrudes
upon their mate’s beatitudes.

(Yet how can I . . . let’s clear some phlegm . . .
show I feel like one of them?

And how to find which words to choose
for ‘Fellas, I’m near one of youse’?)

Oh that my final battler breath
was breathed beside the AIF.

When little tops a patriot
line up lads, let’s see us shot!

Darwin to Cooktown via Geelong
my heart tells me where I belong:

hear it pounding beaut beaut beaut,
soundbites and a photoshoot.

Go slam shut each trendy gob,
I’ll take my orders from the mob.

Ahh democratic treasure trove,
let’s jet home to Anzac Cove!

Gallipoli 2005

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