(Compulsory Voting in Oz)

~ 1 ~

When once I thought a Donkey strange,
I had never seen a mule,
but horses then were all the go,
so on a camel one looked a fool.
We are often judged by the car we drive,
Or on the size of our sailing boat,
Or just by the bicycle we ride,
When we ride down town to vote.
There are wheel chairs there and just for kids,
(Not the goaty looking type),
There's lots of strollers with concrete lids,
And flags and lots of hype...
And people posting their false bids,
That we smoke the old peace pipe

~ 2 ~

You don't see the lawyers at the booth,
Nor the business men and dogs,
That used to piss upon the fence,
Because it was made from grey gum logs.
The folk who drive the bigger cars,
Well you'll never see them there,
You see they have their private bars,
In some secret club somewhere.
There's just some blokes with desperate looks,
Handing out leaflets a bit too late,
To change the minds of all the trucks,
Tying to drive through the narrow gate.
And most of us who think it sucks,
Get fined for being too late.

©Copyright October 28, 2005 by Colin F. Jones

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